


Sugar Sugar, Honey Honey

by Ncj700



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: #A good boy is amongst us, #Acxa is a good friend, #BUT, #EVERYTHING, #Hunk is concerned, #KOSMO HAS ARRIVED, #Katie has foot-in-mouth disease, #Keith does not understand why people are so obsessed with his junk, #Keith slays, #Lance has everything under control, #Neither of you are subtle and I’m okay with this, #PLUS ULTRA SLOWBURN, #Pidge you honestly do this to yourself, #RIP, #ROAST THE TOMATO KATIE, #Street food porn, #Trouble is a brewing, #and still the best bro, #but just in case, #embers, #even Zarkon’s PA hates him, #even when he isnt in the chapter, #feels warning, #foodporn, #heath and krolia just want keith to be a kid, #hot coals slow burn, #hunk is preparing for future headaches, #i feel that at 17 chapters in and not even a full kiss this should be obvious, #in which zarkon gets on everybody’s nerves, #iverson knows whats up, #keith, #keith is a stubborn kid, #keith is still stubborn, #lance as always know everything, #lance is just here for the drama, #lance knows everything, #matt is the ultimate troll, #obligatory shopping, #our poor girl is struggling, #pidge cannot catch a break, #pidge is so confused, #pidge just wants one normal day, #she’s also high as a kite, #shiro loves his boyfriend so much its caustically cute, #smoulder burn, #so does lance, #so is Ladnok, #sorry pidge, #the tomato doesnt know him, #the victorians would be getting busy faster than this fic, #this is finally starting to look like a sugar daddy au, #voyerurism vs professionalism, #what goes up must come down, #what is professionalism, #who cares about slow burn were really all here for the puppy, And also the best bro, Bad News, But today is not that day, Curtis is adorable and needs more love, Enter Shiro stage left, F/F, F/M, Hunk has only been at the party for ten minutes and he's already done, Hurricane Lance hits the ground running, IT'S ZARKON BITCH, It's Lances turn to deal with Keith's shenanigans, Katie is rightly concerned about going home with strangers, Keith doesnt know this normal you speak of, Keith has no concept of excess, Keith has no plan, Keith need help, Keith no, Keith stands no chance here and he knows it, Kidge - Freeform, Kolivan is THAT uncle, LANCE WHAT DID YOU DO, Lance is a very frustrated wing man, M/M, Matt is not convinced by shady rich dudes in bars, Oh, One day Hunk will get to have the crazy ideas in one of my fics, Pidge is in denial already, Project kick Zarkon's arse begins, Sugar Daddy AU, Whiskey galore, You're going to need it, and the penny drops for Pidge, cocktails, except to throw money at a problem and hope for the best, feels warning, gdi just interact, good luck son, hunk is being the responsible one again, i blame discord, it beginssss, mostly - Freeform, puppies!, warning, you cant just buy a girl a phone bc you can
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 130,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ncj700/pseuds/Ncj700
Summary: Pidge was struggling after that dipshit from Uni set her up, and would have listened to her mother’s warnings about bar work, if she had expected to end up the sugar baby of the Hawkinovate Inc trust fund brat, Keith Hawkins, as a result. But really, who would expect that? At least she could pay off her uni loans.





	1. Need A Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairia/gifts).



Iss. 3,955   Friday 18th October 2024     ₲4.97

**FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE**

_Hawkinovate Inc CEO Killed in Vicious Hit-and-Run_

* * *

Heath Hawkins, Chairman and CEO of the emergency and medical tech company Hawkinovate Inc, has died in hospital after a hit and run accident during an international meeting between medical development companies in Olkaria.

Held in Lubos City, the meeting was hoped to bring attention to technological developments in robotic prosthetics and on-site emergency care; on the way to the meeting, along with his wife Krolia, Mr. Hawkins’ car was crashed into by another vehicle.

Mrs. Hawkins was pronounced dead at the scene, and despite the efforts of doctors, Mr. Hawkins succumbed to heavy internal bleeding yesterday evening. The second car, a blue mercury flux turbo, drove away from the scene and police are currently searching for it.

The hit-and run leave the ownership of the ₲170 billion company to Mr and Mrs Hawkins thirteen-year-old son, Keith, who is currently attending Peribadi, a private boarding school in Altea. His care will be taken over by relatives, and management of the company will be monitored by its shareholders until further notice.

One of the current shareholders, COO Kolivan Rolston, made a statement at the company headquarters here in Fort Garritt early this morning:

‘ _The loss of Mr Hawkins and his wife, my niece, is a tremendous and heavy loss to all who work for Hawkinovate. Mr Hawkins was a good and generous man, who was know for his fair standards across all levels of his company. Mrs Hawkins was a key member of the medical development research team, and we are just as struck by her loss, and its impact on our future innovations. It is no stretch for me to express condolences of everyone here to their son; due to his age Keith will not be available for comment, and I will ask that his privacy be respected during this time._ ’

The accident, which took place at roughly 11:30pm, occurred at… **_[Click for full article]_**

_Article by Remdax Millsap. Photography © Vakala Moy-Lars._

* * *

 

“I need to work out how to connect the synapses to the ports,” Pidge mumbled, the pages of her reference books pring into her cheek as she mourned her empty coffee mug. “Else it won’t be useful for anyone, let alone testing.”

She had been staring at her books and computers and diagrams for several days trying to figure out how to integrate her design into the microsurgical procedures that her partner had proposed for their combined project.

The room was starting to smell damp again, winter chill settling into the walls, and she hefted a blanket back up around her shoulders. Last thing she needed was a cold, but it was either suffer in one of the forgotten back rooms of GalTech’s R&D halls, or put up with Lotor hovering around her work like a bad smell, picking up her diagrams and equation sheets, her design concepts without so much as a by-your-leave and generally making a nuisance of himself.

If he wanted something to do, he should have come up with a Master’s project that wasn’t a basic redesign of the Smythe aircraft turbines instead of trying to mooch his way through off the other candidates. He’d been sour ever since Professor Trigel had dismissed his proposal after Katie pointed out the similarity to the designs of their grant donor, but that was what he got for being a lazy ass.

“I hope you figure it out,” a familiar voice groaned back. “Because the research committee has just decided that until there’s more development on the technology integration from the robotics to the microsurgery implants, that we won’t be able to test the prototype on a cadaver.”

Katie nearly fell out of her chair as she whirled around at the sound of Romelle’s despondent voice. “What?!” She blurted. “But we have to test the prototype before I can finalise the design of the connections! I can’t finish it if I don’t know where the connections are failing!”

The news they had been expecting to hear about the next stage of their combined PhD project was not this. This was a setback, and one that would put them back by months.

It was kind of hard to test robotic arms utilising microbiological and surgical tech advancements to connect nerve endings and synapses–thus enabling cognitive function and non-simulated sensation–when they couldn’t test those connections on a body. They couldn’t just stick the arm on some poor sod and hope for the best!

“I know, I told them that, but Dr. Trayling said the medical programme is cutting back on the cadavers it allows into use with other schools. There is actually a shortage right now, so I can see where he’s coming from, but–”

“–But nothing Romelle! We’ve had one ordered for six months in advance since last term! None of the the other med-tech teams have to go into production without a cadaver test! Ina’s already working on the bio coating for her Optrex! We need a biological component to test!”

Romelle made that face where she looked like a mouse waiting for a storm to pass. “I know, I really tried to tell them. If we try to make a connection without knowing how it’s going to affect the CNS we could make someone paraplegic…” she mumbled flopping into a chair. “…I’m seriously considering calling my uncle and asking him to talk the research board. This is ridiculous.”

“You won’t,” Katie guessed, turning back to her extensive pages of notes and planning, wondering how on earth she could proceed any further without a genetic base to model the connection port off. “Unlike daddy’s boy, you have pride.”

“Nope. But I really, really want to,” Romelle sighed, looking forlornly at her own notes and research. “We’ll just have to be patient, maybe refine some of the design until the next cadaver is assigned to us. They can’t do this a second time.”

Katie problem was she was that she was an optimist; despite the strangeness of the circumstances, she believed her, and six months later, her and Romelle’s hopeful pursuits would be the single, most absolute regret in their respective careers.

* * *

Iss. 7,070    Monday 30th May 2033     ₲4.97

**FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE**

_Keith Hawkins succeeds his father at Hawkinovate Inc._

The doors of _Hawkinovate Inc_ welcomed new management yesterday, as Keith Hawkins, son of the former Chairman and CEO Heath, who perished in a car accident alongside his wife eight years ago, inherited the majority share in the company and took on his father’s positions under the beady eyes of the business and tech spheres.

Acting CEO, CFO Zarkon Tomita, COO Kolivan Rolston, amongst other shareholders and business associates, including Coran Smythe, welcomed the new Chairman, and despite some unease in recent days surrounding shares on the VTN 5, shares have since stabilised and held steady, with a rise of 5.14 (0.07%) as of 10:45am, following Mr.Hawkin’s company address.

He spoke this morning from from the Vermilion building’s press room, to news teams and internal departments (as well as all branches in Altea, Olkaria, and Taujeer) on his plans for the future and present challenges.

‘ _I’d like to thank everyone to for taking the time out of their morning to allow me to introduce myself; taking over my family’s success is something I can only describe as exhilarating and terrifying, and I can understand that many of the shareholders and executives might have some misgivings with my decision to take a direct role in this company. Graduating college doesn’t mean I know everything, especially with the evolutions a company this large goes through on a daily basis, but I am also not ignorant; over the next few years, new policies and new projects, and new developments will be in order to redirect our vision where it has strayed, and take the steps into the new fields and places our technology can make a difference. I have a lot to learn, but this is my father’s legacy, and I want to take this company to the places he never got the chance to. I intend to learn fast._ ’

Mr Hawkins later went on to assure all employees that new plans and developments would not include job cuts, or department downsizing, something that came as a great relief to many of the 1,500 employees of Vermillion alone fearing yet more cuts.

 _Hawkinovate Inc_ has been known for its redacted policies in the years since the death of the CEO, with committee based decisions taking place in the absence of a chairman. Several have criticised the decision to branch into military operations at all, with founder policies promising to deliver primarily to public care.

The company certainly hasn’t failed, and indeed its main interest in emergency technology has remained its core pursuit, however to say it has stayed true to its initial principals and maintained its reputation for fair employment. In the last two years alone over 200 jobs were cut from the company’s research divisions in favour of entering into contracts with military medical services.

‘ _I don’t believe that the directions taken with the company since my father’s passing have been entirely wrong, and plan to maintain our work with Terra’s military,_ ’ Hawkins said, when asked about the future of the company’s current military contracts, which are currently developing service robots to assist field medics. ‘ _All I will say for certain is that while any new contracts will not be ruled out, I don’t want them to be made a priority over our primary tech developments in the future._ ’

While many older members of the company may appreciate the return to roots that Mr. Hawkins inheritance promises, others retain judgement, and yet others have already criticised his plans as what they see as heel-face-turn to advancement and expansion which had given the company significant growth.

Macidus Gal, one of the other shareholders, is once such sceptic; ‘ _I think our new chairman has his heart in the right place, and it certainly setting off on a good tone. I’d like to bring some focus back to our main industries and see them shine again, but I think some of his plans may change over time, as his judgement improves and he gains a little maturity. We can’t ignore progress for the sake of history._ ’

Maturity plays a key part in many of Mr. Hawkin’s sceptics; at age 22, he is the youngest CEO in company history, if not within the entirety of business circles. Though undoubtedly capable–Hawkins graduated from Altea’s prestigious Arsalan University in Polluxia, just weeks before yesterday’s broadcast and press conference–his reputation amongst social circles makes shareholders and investors uneasy.

Only time will tell if Keith Hawkins has inherited more than just his father’s fortune, and if his plans for Hawkinovate Inc, will prove his worth beyond weekend getaways and personal scandals.

_Article by Remdax Millsap. Photography © Vakala Moy-Lars._

* * *

 Katie Holt slammed her locker door closed with as much force as she could muster, locking away her handbag and the plastic carrier stuffed with the clothes she’d worn to her interview a few hours before. The one she’d give up a shift–and more importantly–a paycheck for.

“No luck today either?” Nyma asked, wincing at the ring of the metal door through the small staffroom.

“They wouldn’t even interview me Nyma!” She groaned, biting her lip and willing her angry, frustrated tears to stay off her face. She didn’t have the time for a crying headache on top of the one her day had already given her. “I showed up and waited but as soon as I stepped in they turned me away!”

“Maybe they just found someone else?” Her workmate offered trying to sound hopeful.

Katie shook her head. “I was so sure this time! I even spoke to them during the phone interview about what happened at school, and they seemed more understanding!” She raged. “The woman even said the fact that I’d still graduated proved I was worth at least an interview! It’s not like Garritt Uni was much of a step down from GalTech! It was my second choice when I was in high school! I just….How can they justify doing something like that?”

Before she could launch into another rant, filled with more bitter words and loud complaints, Nyma pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, you’ll find something Pidge, I know it. Your brain is too good to go to the wayside forever. Someone is going to notice it, you’ll see, you just have to stay patient. What’s for you–”

“–won’t go by you,” Katie finished, a little more warmly as she flopped into her friend’s offer of comfort. “I know. Thanks Nyma,” she sighed, taking a breath to try and rearrange her headspace away from her failed interview and back towards her current job. The one paying her bills and slowly grinding away at her college repayments. “Has it been busy tonight?”

Nyma winced. “Hellish. Rich kid party? Business party?” She shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly, but there are a ton of college kids and people in suits that cost as much as our water bills.”

Pidge sighed again, then she looked down at the usual black blouse and slim black jeans she wore behind the bar, and absently unbuttoned one or two buttons, shifting her bra to bump up her cleavage. Nyma raised an eyebrow as she pinned on her name badge and attached her access cards and waiters’ friend tools to one of her belt loops.

“Hey, just because I’m not a pole girl doesn’t mean I can’t use my body to take advantage of drunk idiots for more tips,” she said pointedly. “And if it’s a business party then you know they’ll be generous. Last time we had one of these Rolo made eight-seventy Gac in tips just from letting that Olkari dude talk at him. All he did was smile and nod while the guy  drank himself under the table.”

Nyma considered that, and Pidge didn’t bother to restrain her snickers when she hiked her skirt up a little bit more as they made their way down the hall and out onto the main floor of the club.

Neon lights left a low sear on their eyes as they made their way towards the bar, a central ring in the middle of the room, opposite the stage, with a dance floor to the back, and more private, leather lined booths on the remaining sides.

As Nyma picked up a tray of drinks already waiting on the counter, getting the table from Rolo, Katie joined Tevo on the bar itself.

“Hey Pidge —  two Painkillers, a Bramble and a Whiskey Sour if you can!” He called out, digging down into a chilled vat for crushed ice with a scoop, dropping it into a tumbler.

Katie sighed. She reminded herself that her dependency on her high school cocktail fluency was temporary, and that the four years she had spent on her Robotic Engineering PhD were not going to waste as she reached under the counter for the Crème de Mures.

“On it.”

She just wished she could believe it.

* * *

 What felt like hundreds of neon signs decorated the front entrance to a dark, private building just off from the centre of central Garritt, and Keith stared at them all suspiciously as he followed his companion out of the car, locking it with a jerk of his keys over his shoulder.

The brightest of the signs read the name ‘ _Xanthuria_ ’ and suddenly, he felt even more tense than he had arguing with Gal and Tomita.

“Lance, where are we this time?” He asked, already preparing himself; he supposed it couldn’t be worse than the time his friend dragged him to the red light district in Pollux. He could still hear the backlash from Kolivan’s video call immediately following that particular high school stunt.

Lance just waved his hands in the air, giving finger-guns to the doorman, who endured the gesture with a grimace Keith was only too familiar with; Lance was one of his best friends, but he was kind of exhausting - in an endearing sort of way.

“It’s just a club —  I told you. You need a break —  thanks Rax,” Lance shrugged, far too evasively as they passed beneath the sign over the door. Keith just had a few moments before Lance dragged him past the barrier Rax held up to glance at the smaller writing beneath it, completing the sign; ‘ _Xanthuria Private Eyes Club_ ’

“A strip club?” Keith despaired as they headed down the narrow hallway towards a booming darker room. “You brought me to a strip club? _Lance!_ It’s hard enough to get those old prunes to trust me as it is! If someone gets my picture here–”

“–Oh please, like Gal doesn’t go to the north district to get his jollies from Senfama,” Lance snorted as they dipped through the second entry way into the club, directing themselves towards the bar in the centre. “They’ll probably pat you on the back and you know it. Here, put this wristband on.”

Keith took the wristband and stared at it. It looked like general tech, a flat purple LED strip with a low glow. The low reverb and beat of the music was getting louder and as they stepped through the servers and small crowd, it felt like it was slowly bouncing around inside his body, from the top of head to the inner membranes of his gut.

“I hate places like this. I can’t concentrate on anything,” Keith frowned fumbling with the band.

“Yes, that’s the point Keith,” Lance grumbled, before turning to the bartender, who was still shaking something up for another patron somewhere. “Hey my man, two Painkillers, a Bramble and a Whiskey Sour please!”

“I’ll be with you as soon as I ca–” he broke off as another girl appeared, still tying an apron around her waist. “–Hey Pidge, two Painkillers, a Bramble and a Whiskey Sour if you can?”

“On it.”

“They’ll be right with you, are you taking a booth or sitting here?” The first bartender asked as the girl started what looked like Lance’s usual fruity, diabetes-inducing concoction.

“Booth?” Keith blinked.

Lance rolled his eyes, then steered Keith by the shoulders until he was looking towards one of the opposite sides of the room. Booths lined the walls, and lights circling one they sat in immediately glowed with purple that matched the wristband.

He made a face and Lance flashed his own wristband at the the section of the counter where they were standing instead, turning it to the same shade. “We’ll sit here,” he told the bartender.

Keith would normally prefer to hide away in a corner, but who knew what those seats were covered in? No, the bar was likely far more hygienic, and it was also closer to the door. He could order water to keep himself moderately sober too.

As Lance chatted a little with the first bartender, Keith reached into his pocket and brought out a small digital pad which extended to something more the size of an A4 paper with the tap of a finger. He was glad he’d had the foresight to bring his datapad with him, and he flicked through the notes he’d left off on before the drive over.

Waiting as the screen adjusted to the unusual lighting Keith found himself frowning. It flickered back and forth between low and bright and he frowned.  That was far from ideal when these were being marketed to search and rescue teams.

It was supposed to have been developed for the rescue workers of Taujeer, a country which had significant seismic and volcanic activity. This was a pre-release prototype he’d been sent for final approval from a recent employee, but he had wanted to try using it himself before signing off on the production.

If the pad couldn't maintain safe brightness in the semi-controlled lighting of a strip club, how was it supposed to work in more changing environments? Cave-ins? Avalanches? Storms of the type that left destruction in their wake? He’d have to speak to the people at Samasama. There was no way it would be acceptable.

“Keith, why are you looking at your data pad?” Lance asked, his voice layered with enforced suffering. “You’re supposed to be relaxing!”

“I want to finish going through the plans Hunk sent through for the cybernetic prototype; once they’re finalised them we can move ahead. If we take too long Tomita’s going to call another finance meeting and he’s already got more of the other shareholders listening to him than I’d like,” Keith reiterated, defaulting to lowering the brightness before bring up the project. “Though knowing these pads don’t self-adjust brightness properly is good to know, too. Who was in charge of the development project for these? Were they even tested outside of the lab?”

“Pretty sure they were under Rabe-Summer’s division,” Lance said. “Tomita approved the manufacture just before you took the chair. Gal and Sampson made up his majority, but  Kolivan and Antok rejected it based on the development reports. Torseth wasn’t too sure so he abstained and Lowes followed his lead. Look, please, if I promise to come over tonight and go through these with you, will you put down the pad, have a couple of drinks, and have a bit of fun?”

Realising Lance wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Keith sighed, and dropped the data pad down onto the counter, frowning at the sound the coating made on the surface. It didn’t even sound sturdy. What the heck had they been doing in development when they came up with it?

“I’ll try to, but I make no guarantees,” he grunted.

“That’s a start at least.”

“Whiskey Sour, two Painkillers and a Bramble?”

Keith looked up at the girl–the average kind of bar girl, with pretty hair and a nice figure –who had taken over their drinks. They were on a tray on the countertop, and she had an eyebrow raised, with all the patience of someone who had none at all. Keith couldn’t help but think he knew the feeling.

“Thanks sweetness,” Lance beamed, winking at her, taking the drinks and holding out a couple of twenty Gac notes. “Keep the change.”

“Save it for the pole dancers honey,” she said taking the notes with two fingers. “But thanks, I will!” She smiled.

Keith hid his smirk in his drink and coughed into his laugh as Lance deflated, watching as the girl went to the tills, taking the change and depositing it into a jar on the back counter decorated with a fluffy green lid and clusters of googly eyes and nuts and bolts. The eyes made out a name, but he couldn’t see it too clearly with the way the jar was standing.

“Do you have to flirt with everyone moderately attractive that you see?” He asked.

“Just the ones I like, I don’t flirt with you, do I?”

Keith would have argued that the first time he met Lance, it had been at a party in high school, and the boy had sidled up to him, arm-stretched and come out with the brilliant one liner ‘ _Wow, is it just me or is it hot in here?_ ’, but both of them agreed never to talk about that.

“…maybe you should try to talk to someone. It’s been months since you had human contact,” Lance suggested, and Keith made a face.

“I don’t need setting up, Lance,” he grumbled. “I’ve told you before.”

“I’m not talking about getting set up, I just mean getting laid. When was the last time you shagged someone?” Keith ignored his friend, and sipped his drink, turning his eyes back to his data pad. “It was before you graduated! It's not healthy to be best friends with your hand–” Keith choked on his Whiskey Sour. “–when there are plenty of people happy with one-night-romps.”

The bartender bit her lip furiously, rushing away to help out another patron (probably before she started outright laughing at her customers), and Keith glared at his friend.  “Can we not talk about my sex life in public?” He asked

“You don’t have one right now so what is there to talk about?” Lance snorted. “Honestly, your fine side of manflesh is  wasted if you dont at least indulge in its potential.”

“I’ll indulge when I want to, thanks — do you really have nothing better to do than try to get me laid? Because I know there are at least ten reports sitting in your inventory that were due yesterday morning.”

“I’ll get to them,” Lance waved a hand in the air, before settling it and pointing at one of the women seated down in front of the stage in a black, off the shoulder dress, sleek and expensive. She had short red hair, a longer section at one side pulled into a bead ornament. “But in regards to your unhealthy relationship with your hand, my research tells me that Merla Clemens has as much fondness for emotional attachment as you. You should seek her out, my friend.”

Keith wondered how on earth he was going to get himself out of whatever ludicrous plan Lance had concocted. “Please don’t tell me you invited her here,” he begged.

“No, I just learned her schedule. She’s got a dancer she likes to watch,” Lance said without blinking; Keith wondered if that should scare him or not. “Invite a chick to a strip club, please. I like to imagine myself with _some_ class.”

“I’m not going up to some random socialite and propositioning them,” Keith said bluntly. “If you’re so gung ho about this, _you_ do it.”

“Dude, are you actually asking me to flirt for you?” Lance choked. “That’s pathetic!”

Keith ignored the disbelieving stare for another, long sip of his drink, draining the last of the lemoy-amber liquid from the melting ice in the bottom of the glass. “This was your idea,” he shrugged, waving the bartender. “Same again, please.”

She nodded, taking the glass and starting a fresh one.

“Fiiiine, I’ll be your wingman, again, but one day you’ll have to start doing this by yourself,” Lance said, taking the two Painkillers and leisurely making his way towards the front of the stage where the girl– _Morna? Mary?_ –sat.

Keith waited until Lance was fully distracted, then basked in the relative peace, and opened up his datapad once again. The clinking sound of ice and glass as the bartender mixed up his drink hidden beneath the drone of the music.

Or maybe it was just the drinks. In any scenario, Keith was able to continue his initial plans to check the prototype schematics in relative peace. The drink wasn’t bad either.

If he’d been back at the apartment, he’d probably have opened a bottle of Nettare to the same effect, but professionally mixed drinks were better than any home-made mash-up he could come up with.

At the very least, the data pad was functioning properly, even if it didn’t seem to have the right durability or design base that was originally intended–why on earth did it have built in music streaming? Had the Rabe-Summer even _read_ the proposal and design briefs they had drafted with the Taujeerian emergency teams?–because with a few taps, he had the schematics projected above the counter in 3D mode.

Taking his time to go through the notes, he turned the projection with one hand, examining all the points from the engineers developing the tech, oblivious in his alcohol haze and focus to a pair of studious eyes examining the diagram in equally keen detail.

* * *

So.... I was working on Zine stuff ~~and dragons~~ but..... [@Aknazer](https://aknazer.tumblr.com/) came up with some stuff when I mentioned the absence of a Kidge SugarDaddy AU, and we all know I have no impulse control, so here we are.

Thank you to [@KDXArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAdrenaline/profile) for turning my sleep-scribble/typing hieroglyphics into actual words <3


	2. Wanna Talk

Sometimes Katie found her nights at the bar to be hellish.

Between the sleazy men and women constantly hitting on the bar staff (not to mention what the pole girls and waitresses had to put up with), the pounding headaches at the end of the night, and bad nights without tips, it was hardly an ideal job, even if it was at one of the more reputable establishments.

Having a slightly higher class of clientele didn’t always mean better behaviour–the police had been called last year for one idiot trying to circulate hallucinogens–but it was still better than anywhere else. That said, it wasn’t an exclusive establishment. Those were the ones in the central district.

Still, every once in a while, between the regular, boring nights, the ones that meant drinking herself under a table with Romelle, making sure she didn’t feel like the words hurled in her direction by the disgusting people who harassed her, and the ones where she had to bolt her doors and look over her shoulder on the way home because shady things were happening, between all those, there were good nights.

“…when was the last time you shagged someone? It was before you graduated! It's not healthy to be best friends with your hand when there are plenty of people happy with one-night-romps.”

Tonight, as the energetic rich boy made his friend choke on his drink, Katie knew was going to be one of those nights. She had to bite her lip so hard she almost tasted blood to keep her reaction to herself, quickly focusing on some margaritas for two girls who approached the counter, though her ears still lingered on the conversation.

“Can we not talk about my sex life in public?”  Rich boy two asked as she chopped a lemon in half, and skimmed it around the rim of the glasses; it sounded less like a question rather than an order, dripping in sarcasm, complete with a glare that could put her manager’s to shame.

“You don’t have one right now so what is there to talk about? Honestly, your fine side of manflesh is wasted…”

Doing her very best to appear studious–and not like she was about to die from laughter–Katie dunked the rims of the glasses into a small bowl of salt kept on the countertop, and then dropped some ice cubes into them, eyeing the pair.

Number one was the tall and skinny type that looked like he could eat anything he wanted and never put on weight. Tanned, with dark hair, his appearance came off as warm. He was utterly relaxed where he leaned against the bar from his seat. Not really her type, but she was pretty sure Nyma wouldn’t mind flirting to woo some tips from him.

Number two… was the opposite. His skin was pale and his hair was dark, and whereas number one looked more at home with his loosened shirt collar and rolled sleeves, this man suited the clean formal appearance he presented. He was broader in the shoulder, a little taller, and the pull in the fabric of his suit around his arms, shoulders, thighs, suggested he had a more trained physique than his friend’s seemingly natural fitness.

He had a bit more finesse, to the point that if she were reading one of the guilty-pleasure romance books she’d been hiding under her bed since she was seventeen, and the male lead had been some sort of businessman, this guy would have been what she imagined.

His friend was right; he was indeed a fine side of man, and she hadn’t tried to flirt a few tips out of him before he left, Katie would be surprised with herself. He was exactly her type.

“I’ll indulge when I want to, thanks,” Number two certainly didn’t sound very appreciative as she measured out the tequila. “Do you really have nothing better to do than try to get me laid? Because I know there are at least ten reports sitting in your inventory that were due yesterday morning.”

Customer conversations usually weren’t so entertaining, but it paid off to listen. Sometimes you could keep an eye out for people who might cause trouble from the bar, and it was good to know how many times she’d sold alcohol to the ones who’d been there for most of the night. This however, was at least a point to improve her day. If she could still laugh at a guy getting dragged by his friend for not dating enough, then surely she hadn’t hit rock bottom entirely?

Besides the practical reasons for keeping an eye on her customers though, she liked people watching, trying to guess their day jobs and life stories from the fragments of conversation she heard. Sometimes she just made them up entirely to keep herself entertained between pouring shot after shot.

“I’ll get to them, but in regards to your unhealthy relationship with your hand, my research tells me that Merla Clemens has as much fondness for emotional attachment as you. You should seek her out, my friend.”

These two weren’t from the party that Nyma had mentioned in the locker room - that was the table over by the stage that had Tavo occupied with what looked like three platters of tequila chasers and god knows how many refresher bombs–but the words confirmed Katie’s suspicions that they were among the more affluent crowd that frequented the club.

Their suits had that sort of cut too. They were definitely tailor made, and the fabric had that clean sort of expensive look. The sheen that came from a higher thread count, the soft sheen on the material. The precise fit that you didn’t get even in the more expensive shops.

“Please don’t tell me you invited her here,” number two begged.

“No, I just learned her schedule. She’s got a dancer she likes to watch… Invite a chick to a strip club, please. I like to imagine myself with _some_ class.”

Number one, Katie began to realise as she poured the tequila into her shaker, and added the measures of cointreau and lime juice, was a male version of Romelle; boundless energy, terrific social butterfly, and more confidence in the presence of people in his left toe than Katie had in her whole body.

“I’m not going up to some random socialite and propositioning them. If you’re so gung ho about this, _you_ do it.” Number two said as she shucked some ice into the shaker, closed it, and shook the mix back and forth.

He seemed much less exuberant. Or rather, he just seemed bored. Or completely unenthused with the idea of hooking up with a random girl in a strip club, which, after thinking it over, she couldn’t really blame him for. Sounded like her idea of a bad time too.

“Dude, are you actually asking me to flirt for you? That’s pathetic!”

“This was your idea.”

Katie set down her shaker and after chucking the ice cubes in the salt-prepped glasses, poured the mix through a double strainer, and dropped in some lemon slices from the garnish pile. “Twenty five-sixty seven Gac,” she said to the pair; looking at their faces as they cashed up, Katie felt less guilty about not making small talk.

One of the girls was eyeing the pair like a dog with a bone, and the suppressed mirth on their faces told Katie they’d been eavesdropping too. The other was just staring, but that might have been because she was already drunk. She honestly wasn’t sure, and just swapped back the change.

After turning from the till, Number two waved at her, holding up the empty glass in his hand. “Same again, please.” He said, quick and sharp to the point.

Nodding, she took the glass, dropping it onto the sink for cleanup, moving to the closer workstation on the countertop, opening up one of the fridges for the lime juice and egg.

“Fiiiine, I’ll be your wingman, again, but one day you’ll have to start doing this by yourself,” his friend said, disappearing with the two Painkillers.

Number two had fished out a data pad, and she could help but peer curiously as he rotated the hologram of a prosthetic arm design, turning through digital pages as she slides his drink over to him.

After a long take of it, half draining the glass, he looked her dead in the eye. “I will pay you triple for however many drinks it takes to make sure he ends up so drunk off his ass that he can’t see straight,” he said, without any shame or hint of a joke.

“Sorry, against club guidelines” she winced. “But I can make you another drink?” she asked as he finished of the rest of his cocktail.

“It’s a start, I suppose,” he nodded. “Same again please,” he added as she rinsed out and dried her shaker.

Her eyes strayed back to the hologram again as she poured out another round of lime juice and sugar syrup, and wondered if it would be rude to ask about the hologram. She hadn’t seen any advanced tech designs in months, but she knew high grade blue prints when she saw them. She’d made her own for long enough.

“Any whiskey preferences?” She asked after a moment. That sounded like a reasonable thing to ask. And a gentle way to maybe nudge conversation. Okay, she was probably stretching a little, but she could hope.

He started, jerked from his focus on the projection, and paused, presumably thinking about the question. “Any 95’ Vox?” he asked.

Katie nearly choked. She’d been expecting something more back of the counter like a Taujeerian brand. Or even Orinandean - they weren’t the standard but she’d had people request those before. But _95’ Vox?_ That was a fifty-year-old bottle of more-than-her-car-was-worth, made all the more stark when paired with the fact that she didn’t _have_ a car to compare worth with malt based alcohol.

“I… don’t know. We have some older bottles for stag nights and parties. Some people request them, but they’re usually locked up. If we do, I’d probably have to charge you for the whole bottle just to open it,” she said.

“That’s fine, I’ll pay up front,” he shrugged. “I can wait if you need to go check.”

“I guess…?” she trailed off under the look he was giving her, like uncertainty was something that died in his presence. God, he had really dark eyes too. “Yeah, I’ll ask the manager,” she said with more confidence.

“Thank you,” he said–utterly sincerely too–before turning back to his diagram. The quick change in demeanour left her head frazzled, but she made her way round to the other side of the bar all the same.

One of the other waiters–Lahn–was out on sick leave tonight, so Luxia was covering his usual clean up at the bar; she was elbow deep in the sink, chatting with Nyma.

“Something wrong hon?” she asked, looking up as Katie approached her. “You look lost.”

“My customer just ordered a bottle of 95’ Vox for his drink,” she said, still confused. “Am I even allowed to open one of those for a cocktail? I figured he’d have to buy it but…”

“He…? _What?_ ”

Oh good, even Luxia was confused. That made her feel a little better. At her manager’s stunned face, Katie headed to the end of the par, and pointed around the corner to the other side at the man, who was still focusing on his holo-diagram.

“Tall dark at the end of the bar. Total ten on the footsie scale,”she said. “Him. He looks like he can afford it. Should I open a bottle? Or should i just get him to pick something else instead?”

“Are you insane?” Nyma choked. “Katie, do you know who that is?”

“Some rich guy who doesn't understand that nine months worth of rent money isn’t what normal people call pocket change,” Katie shrugged. “I don’t care who he is, I just want to know if i should sell him the damn bottle or not.”

“Y-You can sell the bottle,” Luxia said. “Just make sure it's paid upfront first. You know how to run it through the tills?”

Katie nodded, and with Luxia’s permission granted, she made her way down to the office—a small cellar below the bar—where the high value products were kept in a reasonably sized vault. They had four bottles of the vintage the man had asked for, sitting amongst the clear Arusian whites, fruity Olkarian rosés, spicy Taujeerian reds, the deep and heavy Drazanese meads, some Marmoran vodkas and sakes, and their lone bottle of Nettare (that one had to be ordered in advance, with no exceptions).

Taking the box, very carefully, she headed back up the stairs. She couldn't believe the guy wanted this for a whiskey sours but apparently he was as crazy as he was rich. Returning to the counter, he looked up and had the nice expression of someone who was pleasantly surprised as he eyed the bottle.

“I'll have to charge you for it first, but as long as that's alright, it's all yours...” she said. “Are you sure you want me to open this for a sours? It feels like sacrilege somehow,” she asked—she could hardly not double check for something this expensive.

“My uncle says the same thing, but it still makes a good cocktail,” he smiled. “Though I probably won't have more than one. I'll just have the rest on the rocks,” he added, following her to the till.

One fingerprint scan later, the club was less one bottle of fancy whiskey, and she started unwrapping the bottle to make the last measure. As she pulled it from the box (putting into a bag for him to take it home later), his attention went back to the datapad projection.

It was definitely a prosthetic, and looking at the hazed out human shape the arm was connected to when he zoomed out for a moment, not a standard, pre-programmed bioarm.

Uncorking the fifty year old whiskey, the scent of oaks and peat hit her nose almost before she had started pouring the measure, and she turned her focus back. She was being nosey again.

Closing the bottle she set it beside the man (alongside a low glass with some of the one inch ice cubes) to pour at his leisure, the picked up her shaker.

Once mixed up, she poured it out and topped it off with a lemon zest curl. “One whiskey sours,” she said, sliding it gently across the counter, deciding to take the plunge and date her curiosity. “Does that have neural connection ports?”

He started mid-drink at the question, and she pointed to the diagram, repeating her question.

She had probably earned enough bartender-customer trust by now to cross the small talk threshold, and besides, it was just a question.

What harm could it do?

* * *

 

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_Tuesday 29 September 2037_

* * *

 

The doors of the labs opened with a pneumatic hiss, and Keith was fairly certain that most of the lab techs took one look at him before rapidly heading in the other direction.

Finishing the bottle of whiskey had been a terrible decision, and he fully blamed Lance for his headache, but would draw a line before calling out on it; if it hadn’t been for his Arusian friend dragging him out under protest to attempt to socialise, he wouldn’t have the notes that had been quickly tapped out into his data pad on a separate file, and he wouldn’t have an excuse to knock down Summer a few pegs.

His headache hadn’t been helped by the shareholder meeting, but it had allowed him to bring up the case with direct examples, and any lambasts from Tomita had died in his throat when the rest of the shareholders put their votes in his favour for retracting the product for an overhaul.

Even Gal had been unsettled, though he’d still cast a vote against pulling back the release–they’d both backed the notion of the time frame it would involve taking too long, but presenting an email from the head of the scheme (approving any delays for safety and to ensure reliability) had been enough to bring Lowes and Torseth onto approval. They hadn’t even raised any complaints with his methods of testing.

Keith would readily admit he was a good technician, and Summer had obviously earned his place in development, but after looking through the production files for the years in which the company had taken more mainstream tasks on board, he couldn’t really say that he was happy with the outcomes under his his leadership.

Rises in faults were one thing, but looking at each of the projects, in turn, and comparing them to the initial contracts, nearly half of them were missing elements that had later been added as hardware or software updates. Things that had been specified as base requirements by the companies who had paid for their services in developing the tech.

It had become more common since the new lead scientist in Lab A had joined the division, and finally, Keith had a good reason to step in and call him up on it. The brightness hadn’t been the only test he’d conducted on the pad; the software for seismic analysis was edgy too.

The waves were probably different–Keith wasn’t that clued up to know how much it would have on the software–but the lack of readings on the programme when he took it up to the speaker systems later in the night wasn’t inspiring any confidence, nor its inability to perform well under temperature. He knew the hardware performance had been tested, but again, the software was an issue.

He’d cranked up his heating after he got home, and nearly all the programmes lagged. A few ran okay, and it didn’t overheat, but the software just couldn’t keep up with the sensory mechanisms built into the carbon casing.

For a product almost out of its Alpha testing, that was going to be used in monitoring volcanoes and earthquakes, it was horrendously sub-par.

The door to Lab A, the team assigned to the project opened, and several eyes fastened in his direction with mixed expressions of horror, fear, and surprise

“Mr. Hawkins?” One of the junior scientists squeaked as he walked in. “We weren’t expecting you! Mr. Rabe-Summer is busy with–”

“I’m sorry Miss Leifsdottir, but this isn’t a scheduled visit. There have been some changes to the Taujeerian Seismology project he needs to be aware of. Would you mind having him come see me please?” he asked, politely. He wasn’t going to lay into staff who happened to be under shitty management.

The ‘ _now_ ’ was implicit however, and the woman nodded, rushing away to one of the back room labs he knew to be the main office. Within moments, she returned, with another scientist, long silver hair tied back in tight ponytail, following behind her looking much more rushed than he usually did. Perhaps he’d just got the notification that he’d be down

“Mr. Hawkins, this is very unusual - your visits out here are normally scheduled. Is this regarding the alpha tests and the production agreement for the Taujeerians?” He asked, smiling, as if he expected good news.

“Not exactly. I have some questions, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Did any of the technicians _read_ the proposal and design briefs that were drafted with the emergency teams?”

Summer stared at him, silent as he processed the question. “We’ve factored in all of the proposed requirements - has something malfunctioned?” He asked, starting in confusion. “They held up well during lab testing? I’m not sure I’m following.”

“See, that word, ‘ _requirements_ ’ is part of the problem,” Keith said bluntly, tapping a few buttons and taking over one of the projectors. “I took this with me to do some work outside of a normal office, to see how it would work–” Lies, Lance had dragged him out, but it had served the same purpose in the end. “–and none of the software is acceptable; the scanners are minimum quality, and the brightness adjustment can’t even handle low lighting!”

“It’s been coated to function in extreme conditions, and there were no problems with the hardware in the beta tests,” Summer frowned. “The software the Taujeerians asked us to develop isn’t designed for lower conditions so–”

“Whatever excuse is about to leave your lips Summer, I don’t want to hear it,” Keith snapped, pulling up the analysis reports from the software for full display. “Look at this and tell me what you see in the data.”

The scientist sneered, and turned confidently to the screen, flicking over the holo-pads to bring up the data and run it through analysers, translating the code coming from the laptops. After a moment, a clearer report flashed onto the screen, with several files generated.

“Well?” Keith prompted.

Summer clenched his jaw as he typed and opened the files. “Over 300 bug and crash reports, broken code and failure patterns,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That data is from a strip club, hardly the most taxing environment on earth and yet even with carbon based shell and resistant hardware, this piece of crap can’t even fulfil its most basic function in a place that only vibrates from sound, and my apartment which rarely goes over 20ºC,” Keith said, crossing his arms. “I cranked it up a bit last night to be sure, but it didn’t get above 30ºC. Tell me, is that suitable for use in areas liable to over 700 to 1,200ºC, and where 6.0 magnitude quakes are common place?”

The lab was silent, and the man was biting his lip in frustration and anger. He struck Keith as the type of man who liked to be in charge and have his own way, and right now, there was nothing he could say to try and argue his way out of this. The data was right in front of him.

“I’m waiting for an answer Summer.”

“No, its not.”

“Of course it’s not!” Keith snapped. “If this project doesn’t succeed, then our private contracts will dry up overnight! You are the lead scientist on this team, so making sure that that doesn’t happen is supposed to be your responsibility, and you put this shit through to alpha testing? He roared. “When the Taujeerians approached us with this, they weren’t asking for bog standard tech that can be mass-marketed for seventeen-hundred Gac a piece!”

“We were thinking of future investments and I had full support to proceed from the board!”

“You can think about future investments all you like, just keep it out of our tech from now on. This project is being recalled. We still have three months to fix this–”

“Three months?!” He paled. “This was a nine month project! We can’t have a full redesign in that amount of time.”

“Your prototypes have been tested for the hardware correct? Then unless you’ve made previous errors you have time to focus on the software, you can take that music streaming app out for starters. Submit the prototypes to Lab D for a full work down; they’re already expecting them. If there aren’t significant changes in five weeks to your approach to this, they’ll be taking over the project.”

“What? We’ve spent months on this! You can’t just waltz in here and upend all the hard work my team have made in–”

“Actually I can; I presented this, alongside the failing sales data from this department in our private contracts–since you took charge–to the board for assessment this morning.  It was approved, and the Taujeerians have been informed of the issues.”

“Our projects have been producing most of the profit from these labs for years!” He protested. “Our sales our up! I’ve seen the figures!”

“Perhaps on the mass market crap you’ve been churning out, but the long term investments–the contracts that bring in new investors, and allow this company to maintain its technological advancement, its research, that allow you to make that low-level convenience tech for quick money–have not.”

Keith tapped another folder, and brought up the sales figures and margins, complete with dropping comparison graphs to the years before Lotor Rabe-Summer took over the lab.

“These are your private investment returns for the last four years. There’s a copy in your inbox. Take a good look at it Summer,” Keith said, taking back his datapad. “If you want to keep this job, I highly suggest you start fulfilling the outlines we have been contracted to do, instead of ghosting public data pads as high level emergency systems tech. That has not been our baseline goal in any of the products your lab has developed, and it isn’t part of it now. If you can’t meet the basic standards from our clients, I promise you, I will find somebody who can.”

Without bothering to wait, Keith turned and headed back out of the doors, moving onto Lab B. Summer wasn’t the only lead with a team to manage and projects to worry about it. The others had their problems too. Lab B was having trouble sourcing a type of carbon fibre for the tools that were also being developed for the Taujeerians. Lab C was trying to work around the ridiculous proposals the military contracts requires so that the developments remained primarily for medical purposes.

That was a molehill keith didn’t want to touch with a ten foot barge pole; getting involved in any kind of weaponry development was exactly the opposite of what his family had developed Hawkinovate for, and he refused to let it wander into that shady realm.

Finally, there was Lab D, and in all honesty, this was the lab that Keith had been looking forward to checking in on the most. Scanning the keycard, he stepped into the lab and made his way over to a table where a large man with a sweatband wrapped around his head, and a girl with a spiky ponytail were hovering over a holo-diagram that matched the schematics in keith’s datapad.

“Would an ion chip work?” the woman mumbled curiously where she splayed in her chair.

In Lab D, the air conditioning had been on the fritz for a week now, and the stifling heat was far from pleasant. Repairs had already been booked, but stepping in, Keith was pondering the value of disregarding the building insurance and letting the scientists fix it themselves.

“No, it would fry the internal matrix,” the man said.“Ion chips are too powerful for prosthetics with balanced insulation around the ion generator; the whole thing would overheat and burn the stump,” he said.

His lab partner shoved a straw into a sachet of orange juice and suked noisily and pensivley as they stared into the hologram. “Then we just isolate it?” she suggested. “Those chips are already used in legs right? We just have to get the ratio and type of insulator to fit–”

Keith coughed gently, and her eyes flicked with a surprise towards him, straw still in her mouth mid-slurp. Her choking and coughing alerted her partner, and he whirled around.

“Keith!” he blurted. “I thought you weren’t coming back until the repair guys got here?”

For the first time that day, Keith relaxed. He’d met Hunk at college; the man had been attending on an engineering scholarship, and he’d mixed well into Keith’s preference for private friendships, than the mass of cohorts some of his peers had favoured.

“I came to chew out Rabe-Summer, so I sent a mail out to let the leads know I’d be down to have some unscheduled check-ins today,” he grinned. “Did you get your account statements sent through yet?”

“I sent them to Lance the day before yesterday - hasn’t he sent it to you?” Hunk asked. “Wait, is something to do with why you were at that strip club yesterday? They posted your photo you know!”

Ah. It was probably in Lance’s in-tray. Unconcerned, Keith nodded in reply to Hunk’s second question. “Kind of an accident, but the pads are shit and I had enough material to convince Torseth and Lowes to support scrapping them and starting over, at least on the software.”

“Oh sweet shit,” Hunk’s assistant, Nadia, almost choked with glee, scrambling from her chair to one of the computers. “I’ve got to message Ina - I wanna see the security feeds!”

Hunk ignored her, instead looking back at Keith (who had taken her chair) with worry. “Is that wise? You know he’s pretty cosy with Tomita, it’s kinda creepy actually.”

“Probably not,” Keith shrugged. “But he needs a wake up call. Tomita seems to have an impression that I’ll roll over and let him do whatever the fuck he wants with _my_ company. Hopefully this will rattle his feathers enough that I can distract him, and look at dismantling the military contracts he’d started trying to draw up.”

Hunk grunted, not quite approving, but accepting the outcome. “Summer’s going to be a pain in the neck for weeks now,” he sighed. “How did you get all the shareholders to agree to this anyway?”

“A bartender,” Keith said. Pulling out his datapad and starting to flick back through the files to pull up the notes that had been tapped in the previous night.

Hunk, for his part, looked just as confused as Keith had expected him to.

“Excuse me?”

* * *

 This fic is making me miss cocktail bars so badly.

Thanks again to [@KDXArt](https://kdxart.tumblr.com/) for checking this chapter for me :) 


	3. Take Aim

“How did you get all the shareholders to agree to this anyway?”

“A bartender.”

“Excuse me?”

* * *

“One whiskey sours,” the bartender said, sliding Keith’s glass gently across the counter.

Keith registered her, but was also too caught up in the diagram of the prototype to pay attention, taking the glass without a word until he heard a more surprising question being cast his way.

“Does that have neural connection ports?”

He started mid-drink at the question, looking up at the woman, wondering if he’d misheard her somehow. Her finger pointed to the blueprints being displayed, proving his ears were working just fine, and the bartender had just asked him some sort of reasonably well informed question on robotics.

“That arm,” she repeated. "People here aren’t usually looking at holo-diagrams,” the waitress looked more amused than annoyed, as she leaned over the table to place his drink by his elbow. "Especially not ones like that. So, my question remains; does that have neural connection ports?”

Keith stared at her. “Not to be funny but you know what those are?” he asked evasively; the prosthetic was a private project, and would only be entered into the labs as a mainstream project if it was successful.

He was very nervous sharing information on it, and had been planning to answer any questions about it by saying it was a design concept for an art programme rather than anything functional. And it was a design concept. It just had parts already in pre-production was all.

Keith was a terrible liar. And a workaholic. This was what he got for looking through the design notes in a bar half-sloshed from whiskey. He really needed to stop listening to Lance, he decided, finishing off the rest of his drink and reaching for the fresh one she’d set up by the bottle. He also probably needed to stop drinking but he’d feel guilty if he stopped now that he had the bottle, so really, it was better for his conscience to finish it.

“You think I wanted to be a bartender for a living?” The woman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Keith shrugged. “Some people do, and if you work in the right place, it can pay good money. I wouldn’t turn it down. So, in regards to the question before, what did you want to do for a living?”

“I guess,” she shrugged. “But the original plan was Robotic Engineering and software development; I have a PhD and a Masters from GarrittU gathering dust.”

Keith stared at her. He wanted to ask how she ended up bartending if she had been to a university of that calibre, but also knew to be cautious.

He’d heard from Acxa–at one of the parties for the sponsors at Russo Heights–about one reporter who got herself hired at her favourite cafe to try and get some kind of story out of her. She’d had to get a restraining order. He definitely didn’t want to have that kind of trouble following him around.

Tomita and Gal would have a field day, and Kolivan would give him that disappointed look.

“Impressive,” he mused. “And to answer your question, the connections haven’t been decided,” he sighed; that was part of the problem in getting the project off the ground.

Tomita had bought the research fro GalTech a few years ago, but it had quickly been discarded because the notes that came with it were unreadable. Or at least, Hunk couldn’t access them. He had a theory they’d been put under a security password, or the notes themselves were written in code. He was determined to complete it though, after Rabe-Summer had dropped it.

If Hunk and Nadia, and the rest of their team, could get it to work, then it could mean very good things for the redirection for the company, and undermine the outlook Tomita was trying to spearhead. Keith also kinda wanted to see the look on their faces when his best scientist completed a project that Tomita’s lab pet gave up on as a lost cause.

“This is really, really advanced tech, I haven’t seen anything like it since I left uni,” the woman said almost wistfully as she gazed at the hologram. “Why do you have something like this in a bar anyway? Most people don’t come in here to work on anything except tomorrow’s hangover.”

“Oh, I’ll probably manage that,,” Keith shrugged. “But I like being productive and sometimes alcohol helps with that,” he shrugged. Then he paused, and glanced at his pad. “But maybe an outside opinion might be better, if you’re interested?”

The woman visibly perked up, and Keith locked away the files on the arm for the moment, before handing her the data pad. She took it with a raised eyebrow, and he poured himself another measure of the bottle, lifting the glass.

“That data pad is a prototype for disaster relief crews; it’s supposed to have proper functionality but I’m not happy with it. Have a look and see what you can dig up. There’s nothing worth stealing on it though - I keep that stuff somewhere else. This is just for testing,” he said, before taking a sip of his drink.

“Are you sure?” She didn’t look convinced. “Won’t you get in trouble for showing someone this?”

Keith nearly choked on the whiskey. “No,” he said, trying not to let his amusement show too much. “Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere now, I’ll have to call someone after this much, so if you get a customer I can wait. I just want an outside opinion, one that doesn’t have any bias.”

She looked conflicted for one more moment, but it didn’t last. With the assurance her eyes lit up, and she leant onto the countertop over the pad, fingers already taping away to access the keyboards and get into the software.

For a moment Keith wondered if the angle was deliberate–he could see down her shirt–but shrugged the thought away, and turned back to his drink.

The bartender–he still hadn’t got her name–was right. It didn’t really need any embellishment at all.

* * *

 

“A bartender,” Keith stated again. “I gave her the datapad and she did a few scans to uncover all the bug reports; they were hidden, she said. That’s why nothing ever showed up during the beta tests.”

“You got all that from a bartender?” Hunk asked suspiciously. “How much were you drinking? Are you even allowed to do that?” He asked, holding a hand out for the pad Keith held out, and quickly logging into it.

“Had a couple of drinks but I hadn’t opened the bottle yet,” Keith shrugged. “And who’s going to tell me off?”

“I dunno, your uncle?” Hunk scowled, quickly bringing up some hidden activity reports on the screen. “And me! Dude, she tried to hack into the files on the arm! It’s a good thing she didn’t have an actual computer to work with! Looking at this I’d say she could have broken your passwords!”

Keith shrugged his shoulders again.

“I’m not surprised, she was eyeing it like it was cookies and ice-cream. Anyway, turns out she graduated from Garritt U’s robotic programme. She’s got a masters and a PhD, from what she said,” he said, tapping out another file and sending the copy to his friend.

Hunk nodded, opening the file.“Next time Lance wants to take you to a bar, tell me. You two need damage control,” he muttered. “Speaking of Lance, where is he? He normally follows you like an overprotective puppy when when you’re in your office.”

“Working from home; you know he can’t hold his drink, so his substitute is covering,” Keith told him. “It’s kind of wild. All the paperwork was done. I had a whole hour to use for the arm. I sent out the requests you made for assistant staff, so we should hear back from someone within the week.”

“Neither can you if you drink entire bottles of whisky,” Hunk pointed out.

“No, but I’m more stubborn than he is” Keith shrugged. “Plus it’s easier to shout at people when you have a drink-induced migraine.”

“It’s really not,” Hunk sighed, getting to his feet and going to the lab fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water and a pear, and then went to one of the overhead cupboards above the counters and into the med kit. He returned with a packet of painkillers. “Take those, and make sure you eat that with them–no coffee.” He said, sitting back down and skimming them across the table towards him. “You’re going back to check this girl’s the real deal, aren’t you?”

Keith nodded, breaking a couple of the pills from the foil. “Either tonight or tomorrow.” He raised an eyebrow, popping the pills into his mouth and washing them down with the water. “You don’t think I should,” he guessed.

Hunk raised his hands, uncertain. “She tried to hack your files–I’m extremely sceptical, I’ll admit, but I know that won’t stop you, so I figure the best I can do is give you some tests instead. That way they’re more thorough. I mean, I know you can cover basics, but for this we want to be sure she understands the technical stuff.”

“So something else? I was thinking I’d just use the pad again. There’s bound to be more on it.”

“Just because someone has a degree doesn’t mean they’re intelligent enough for it,” Hunk said bluntly. “I mean, look at Summer.”

Keith took a bite of the pear and grunted; Hunk made a fair point.

* * *

 

The rapid bleep and blare of an incoming phonemail was what finally roused Katie from her bed.

Her alarm had gone off earlier, but she’d turned that off, determined to enjoy a lie in after her defeat in the world of job hunting before she dragged herself back to Xanthuria for her next shift.

She’d had a call from her mother too, asking about the interview, and for a while, she’d sobbed her heart out, taking relief of the frustration and anger that came as a result of everything she’d worked for. How much longer could she keep it up?

Her parents were worried, and frankly Katie was starting to worry about herself too. She felt stuck, with nowhere to go forwards and no way to go back and change the stupid mistakes she’d made at GalTech.

At least she had Matt’s move to look forward to. He was back from his last research trip, and would be coming to the capital; he’d been gone for over a year to look into Rijk’s current border problems with Drazan. She was glad he would be back; he'd checked in regularly, but knowing he was back was an immense relief.

He wasn't coming by himself either; Shiro had finally got some progress on his medical care, and had a meeting at the labs across town for a potential prosthetic. The outlook was promising enough that he and his boyfriend were moving in with Matt temporarily.

Katie hoped having them all around would halt her dad’s quiet hints about moving back home; it was too tempting, knowing that there was a job waiting for her at the analytics centre back in Marchanda. It had recently been purchased by an investor, but the control had legally remained with her father. Only now he and the others would have a lot more scope and funding to work with.

Her dad was excited about it, and tried every time she phoned to encourage her to come back, but she wasn't quite ready to give up on finding her dream job yet. Even if she was swimming in debt and could barely afford her crappy east district six hundred Gac pcm one room, damp riddled studio, even on Xanthuria’s wages.

The whiskey guy hadn't been wrong about bartending wages going up in certain locations–twelve-hundred Gac (ish) a month wasn’t too bad. She just wished rent prices in the capital matched; Fort Garritt was _ridiculously_ expensive.

With a final sigh, she rolled over and sat up, willing herself out of bed and gathered a towel and washing necessities, before heading down to the communal bathroom for her pre-work shower.

It didn't take long, and after she had dressed and eaten she grabbed her backpack and headed out for the monorail to the central district. It wasn’t a long journey, just over half an hour tops once the train picked up enough speed.

The line of the building tops steadily grew higher and higher as the train glided along its track, until they were higher than she could see out of her window, music from her earbuds filling the space where the silent passage would otherwise have dulled her back to sleep.

After that it was a ten minute walk from her stop to the club.

Letting herself in at one of the staff doors, she went through her usual locker room routine, and clocked in before heading back out to the main floor.

It took her some time to reach the bar, given the influx of people. For being so early in the evening it seemed unusually crowded. Eventually, after a lot of pushing, insistent ‘Excuse me!’s, and some shoving to boot, she made her way from the floor to the central bar.

“What is going on tonight?” she grumbled, once behind the counter safety wall of the counter. “It busier than usual today.Where did they all come from?”

“There’s a promotion on, and we got a bit of celebrity endorsement,” Luxia said in the process of refilling some of the plastic jugs with orange, lemon, and lime juice from the presses on the back of the bar. “Nyma made a post last night about it, but if I’d known it would be this crazy, I might have changed my mind about the promotion.”

Katie nodded, quickly turning to her usual section of the counter and starting on the first order that came her way - three Midori sours.

Focusing on work, she didn’t notice the time passing. There were a lot more people and between restocking, cleaning the counters, jiggers, shakers, and serving the patrons, she lost track of it.

They must have gone through two bottles of the standard whiskey by the time they reached ten o’ clock, and they were still busy.

“I can’t believe all this is just from a promotion,” she grumbled to Tavo, slicing up an apple for a fan garnish to some custom order with tequila and nunvill. “It hasn’t even slowed down yet.”

“And it’s probably only going to get busier,” Tavo said, whacking the container part of a blender down onto the mixing unit and blitzing up something with banana and ice.

Katie grumbled, and handed off her customer at the tills, exchanging notes as quickly as she could. At least her tip jars were being fed well tonight. The whiskey guy from the other night had been pretty generous, but the mass of people today had probably matched what he put in (not as much as the 95’ Vox was worth, unfortunately, but still way more than what normal tips were).

Sighing she turned back to the counter. At least on slower nights she could try to talk to people, make life more interesting. Busy nights like this made no room for that sort of thing.

“Next!” She called out.

“A White Galra please.”

Katie blinked, then looked at the man who’d ordered again in surprise. He wasn’t wearing the suit from before, just a short-sleeved shirt and dark skinny jeans, but it was definitely the whiskey guy with the secret prosthetic tech which–try though she might–she hadn’t been able to access the blueprints of when he gave her the tablet to look at.

“Coming right up,” she nodded, picking up a bottle of vodka and measuring the first shot into a low tumbler. “No friend tonight?” She asked, raising an eyebrow before turning behind the bar for a coffee liqueur.

“He’s still sensitive,” the man shrugged. “Didn’t even make it in this morning, but he always mixes his drinks more than I do.”

“And you’re not? You drank the whole bottle!” She scoffed, tipping the same measure again of the liquor into the glass, then dropping in a few cubes of ice.

“Well, I felt like shit this morning, but I had some meetings, so I had to go in. Lance is lucky enough that he doesn’t have to show up. I don’t have any tomorrow though, so I don’t have to be in till 10am,” he said as she reached under the counter into the fridge for the milk and cream.

“That’s a shitty lie-in, you know that right?” She asked, mixing the milk and cream in a another glass, before pouring it over the ice and alcohol.

“I’ll survive until the weekend,” he shrugged, taking the drink after she’d dusted it with some chocolate powder and dropped on a couple of coffee beans. “One drink won’t kill me, and I won’t be here long anyway; I just came to speak to you.”

That stopped her short as she put the drink through on her till, pausing in the midst of putting the price through for his thumbscan. “You came back? To talk to me?” She checked, and not altogether unconcerned. “Er, why?”

Romelle had had trouble with patrons trying to follow her before. Last thing she wanted was the same thing from one of her customers. Katie wasn’t entirely freaked out just yet, but the fact that the man admitted he had returned to see her was unusual.

“Because I know you’re itching to see that arm design again, and I need some fresh eyes on it,” he said moving aside for a group of three wanting the night’s house tequila special - ‘ _Bluve Old Fashioned_.’ “One of the tech guys told me you tried to hack into the file on the tablet, so I figured you’d be mildly interested at least.”

“I couldn’t see anything…” she grumbled, fishing out some glasses to chill with ice. “...but you did hand the thing right over to me; that’s not exactly safe.”

“You sound like my tech guy,” he frowned. “It’s fine. My passwords on that file change regularly, so unless you knew their basis and the algorithm, you would struggle with just a datapad,” he smirked.

Feeling reassured that he wasn’t going to report her to the police for trying to hack into his personal files, but still confused, she tried not to take the smug confidence as a challenge. If she’d had more time she could almost certainly have got into the file. Even with a datapad.

“Okay but that still doesn’t give me much incentive to trust you.” She said, getting some bottles of reposado, mezcal, agave and bitters.

“Says the woman who tried to hack my personal files,” he countered; Katie had to admit, that was a fair retort.

She did feel a little guilty about that but that arm hadn’t just been interesting, just one look had told her it was cutting edge tech, the kind of stuff she’d dreamed about working on before the mess up at GalTech left her education, career and bank balance in pieces.

She also realised, measuring out the mezcal and tequila into a stirring glass, that she was trying to justify her own brand of privacy invasion, and that probably ought to be more worrying than it was.

She quickly dropped one of the large, single ice cubes into some more lowballs. “That’s fair I guess, but it’s still weird.”

“In what way?” he asked between sips of his drink, taking a seat after one of the other people crowding the bar moved away.

Katie poured out the drinks and tallied up the costs for the group she was actually serving

“All I know about you is that you drink way too much whiskey in one sitting, have an annoying friend, and apparently have no fear of senior management reproval.” She said finally.

And he was stinking rich, most likely, or had debt problems. Maybe both. You could never tell. She didn't say that out loud though.

He stared at her, as if that set of words was confusing. And not mildly; his gaze seemed to pierce her, the puzzled expression deepening for at least a solid minute before something clicked.

“So your objection is based on a lack of trust?” he checked, ice in his glass clinking.

“I think that’s implied; I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s…” he paused, then held up his free hand, an amused curl to his lips.  “...Keith. Nice to meet you Miss Bartender,” he offered.

She rolled her eyes, then shook the hand. “Pidge,” she said, dropping it to start another drink set (a basic gin one with some dressing up) for another group who had seemingly flocked to her counter.

“Pidge,” he tested.

“It’s a nickname – I don’t use my real name at work. None of us do, safety precaution,” she explained, seeing the ‘ _your parents really named you that?_ ’ look on his face she’d seen numerous times before. “And I still don’t trust you.”

“That’s sensible,” he shrugged. “Can’t say I’m surprised, but I didn’t know how else to contact you,” he paused. “Just for the record, I know that sounds creepy, but it’s still the truth.”

Katie grunted, measuring out some gin into a fresh shaker. “So you admit to sounding like a stalker, but still haven’t said why you wanted to speak to me? That doesn’t exactly inspire much trust. “

“I… have nothing to say to that,” he sighed. “What _would_ it take for you to trust me?”

“That more depends on what you want me to trust you with,” Katie countered, adding the blue curaçao, sugar syrup and lemon juice to the gin, and some aquafaba instead of the normal egg white.

He waited while she finished the drinks, pouring the blue, foaming liquid into coupe glasses and topping them off with a bunch of sprinkles and seared orange wheels. Once she had rung them through, she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Like I said,” he continued as she washed up the shaker in the moment of peace. “I want a fresh set of eyes on that arm design. You said you hadn’t planned on bartending, and the labs have a vacancy,” he said, leaning over the counter a little.

The music bass was loud enough that the conversation was private, but also loud enough to drown out hushed tones with a bar in the way; leaning in to listen, she caught the scent of something. Cologne maybe. Warm and spiced musk.

She’d called him a straight up ten to Nyma and Luxia yesterday, but up close, she retracted that statement - it was probably higher. Nyma was going to laugh at her for finally catching sight of someone who broke the footsie scale.

It was hard to tell under the club lights, even with the better lighting around the bar, but she could tell his eyes were a dark colour. Probably one of the Galran shades - not yellow, too dark for that, and he had that slight angulation that came with the heritage.

His hair didn’t look as gel-controlled as it had the previous night, and fell around his neck in small licks and across the eyes. He had a sharp jaw and - she found herself noting far to closely - only a little stubble.

“You’re… offering me a job?” she stared, trying to process what he’d just said, and stop herself from… appreciating his appearance.

It was surreal. The alcohol fumes had got to her. Or the music. Maybe she’d checked a few too many drinks with straw-tests. Maybe someone had spiked her water bottle while she wasn’t looking? She couldn’t think of another explanation for what she was hearing.

“Hardly,” Keith chuckled. “I have to know you’re cut out for it first. What you found on that datapad was promising though. It was enough to get them scrapped,” he said, leaning back into his seat again. “I’m offering you an… informal interview.”

She was so shocked the next person in search of a drink (a fruity vodka special they’d called ‘ _Marmoran Spring Punch_ ’) had to wave to get her attention.

“You can’t be serious,” she shook her head, starting the drink with pebble ice and the vodka measure. “That’s a joke,” she assured herself, though part of her hoped beyond hope it was.

There was no way tech as elaborate and high quality as what he’d shown her was some kind of gimmick. It was the real thing - her own eyes told her that. She tried to concentrate on the creme-de-cassis instead of fantasising, but Keith was determined to make her daydream reality.

“I’m completely serious,” he said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with mixology, it’s a fun hobby, but do you really want to mix drinks forever? I didn’t get that impression yesterday.”

“You remember that?” Katie cringed, adding the last measures of sugar syrup and lemon juice to the highball glass. She’d kind of assumed he would be too drunk to remember most of the conversation, let alone come back for anything except another overpriced whiskey sour.

“Not so much the exact words, but the impression yes,”  Keith shrugged, watching as she stirred. “Some past incidents have made me learn to keep track of things when I’m drinking. But that’s besides the point,” he said.

He waited again as she charged the poor girl she’d nearly ignored for her drink. She seemed happy at least, taking a million photos after Katie had added the skewer garnish of raspberries and blackcurrants, and some dark purple edible glimmer.

Once she had left, Keith’s eyes changed, furrowing and becoming more serious. “I’m not making anything up. One of the tech guys made up some tests for you take after he looked at the datapad. If it makes you feel better, he thinks I’m crazy for trying to recruit a random chick from a bar, but he really does have a vacancy coming up in his labs. The position was advertised today.”

“So why not just let me apply for the job by myself?” she asked quickly.

“It’s only being advertised to scientists who’ve worked on other projects at the labs, or have a certain level of educational merit - a PhD, essentially,” he said, pulling out his phone and tapping into a webpage. “You won’t find it advertised on job pages, but we can invite people to apply who haven’t previously been given contracts if they meet the standards,” he said, holding out the phone. “This is the official statement letter.”

Katie took the phone semi-reluctantly, scanning her eyes over the information, trying to see if any of the logos and imaging looked familiar. Some did, but those could easily be faked, and because it was obviously an internal despatch, it didn’t have the same advertising that a public broadcast would.

She did recognise the name of the lead researcher; Hunk Galuvao had graduated from Arsalan University, a few years before she’d started her PhD, still during her masters, and was one of the youngest, prominent robotic engineers about. He’d worked for BalDesign, Smythe, and Hawkinovate.

Katie still thought it was a trick. But if it wasn’t, then she wondered just exactly what kind of project this application would lead to. She tried not to get excited at the thought, forcing herself to hand the phone back to Keith.

No wonder he was stinking rich, if he worked for Galuvao.

“Well?” He prodded.

The bar was still quiet, patrons dragged away by one of the pole shows.  Katie considered it all, the sheer lunacy.

“If you don’t mind waiting, I have a break in a couple of hours. I can fill in some forms and things then, and whatever you said those tests were?”

What did she have to lose? Either it was a scam, or it wasn't. She'd never find out if she tried to be safe. She’d tried applying for jobs the normal way and what had it got her? It wasn’t like she’d lose any money.

“Ah, that… won’t work. I dont have the tests with me.”

She jerked her head towards keith in confusion, but before she could offer any words, he held up a hand.

“The data pad was one thing, but the lead scientist wants to make sure you're competent with the kind of programmes and tech you’d be working on, so he developed some quick tests for you. I can’t carry that on my datapad,” he said, looking a little awkward. “Blueprints are one thing. Tech design programs and simulators and things like that, they need more processing power, and I can’t just download them from the company database; it’s locked to most outside access apart from the public information pages.”

Katie processed that. “If I can’t access them, then how am I supposed to take the tests?” she asked, starting to feel like the whole thing was a set up again, and wondering if she had the right to feel angry. Probably. “You can't just mess people around like that!”

“I’m not, I have access to the tests,” he said quickly, a worried and mildly anxious tone in his voice.  “...but they’re on my hard drive.”

“On your hard drive?” It took a moment before she realised what he meant, and then she felt like she was back at square one. “You mean-”

“-back at my apartment, yes.” Keith sighed. “Now you see why the lead scientist thinks I’m crazy,” he laughed awkwardly.

Katie didn’t laugh. “You want me to go back to your apartment,” she repeated, just to check she really wasn’t drunk on alcohol fumes and taste tests. “To look at something on your hard drive.”

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, uncomfortably. “I know, this sounds so dodgy–”

“–really? You think?” She drawled sarcastically; he frowned at her, but not from any irritation; it was more of a pained expression that people who knew they were guilty of being idiots wore.

“–but I swear, I’m not making it up,” he insisted. “If you want to arrange some kind of check-in with someone, that’s fine. Someone who can call you regularly?”

Katie felt like telling him that his desperate insistence made him seem like a creep, and the recommendation wasn’t likely to sway anyone to full belief, but she didn’t. He really did seem earnest.

“Why are you so gung ho about this?” She asked finally. “If this project is so high-up why aren’t you trying to recruit the people the lab has worked with before?”

“Because…” he frowned, trying to collect his words. “If the other labs knew about it, there’d be an argument, and it would probably get handed off to military development. That’s not what it’s purposed for. If it can be developed quietly, it’s more likely it can be pushed through for the health service,” he explained. “Some of the other scientists would support military involvement, and unless the position is filled quickly, we won’t have total control of who becomes involved. It would depend on the shareholders and sponsors if things got that far. Private interviews are better for now.”

Honestly, it sounded shady. She was crazy for even thinking something like this could be genuine. It wouldn’t be the first time a friendly character had led her to poor decisions if it was, but… Keith was right. She didn’t want to be a bartender forever. She’d made use of a college hobby to pay the bills. It wasn’t the career she dreamed of.

“I’d love to,” she sighed, picking up her used tools and shakers and dropping them into the sink at her station. “But I can’t,”

His face, which had opened up at first, fell again. “Why not?” He almost whined, the frustration starting to show in his tone this time.

“Because I won’t finish till three am,” Katie said simply. “I’m human, I need to sleep. And earn a wage. I can’t just cut out of work, especially not when it’s this busy and we’re short staffed,” she sighed. “Not to mention you have that crappy lie in to get started on.”

“That’s the only reason?” he asked, his tone more confident and curious again.

“I suppose you seem moderately trustworthy now, so yes,” she sighed, running the hot water tap. “That is my only objection.”

He grinned, and drained his glass. “Alright then, who’s your manager?” He asked, the low clunk of the glass as he brought it back to the counter adding a low, sure strength to the words.

“Luxia, the lady with the blue and yellow hair, purple streaks,” she said, nodding over her shoulder towards her manager as she concentrated on the cleaning.

He smirked then. “Thanks,” he said, leaving the glass on the counter. “Don’t take any more orders. I’ll be right back,” he added, picking up coat from the back of the chair and heading around the bar to where Luxia was attending to one of the tills.

Katie tried to figure out what he meant, staring between where he and Luxia were talking, and the empty tumbler she was currently rinsing out. After another moment, he pulled something out his pocket and- wait, was that an _account card?_

He held it up to the sensor on the tills and something must have been processed, because the transaction lights for customer accounts came up for a moment. Maybe he was taking a private account out? Though given the conversation, it made no sense.

She stopped her thoughts as he headed back in her direction, pulling on the jacket; a long double breasted one with a sleek, diagonal cut, which he made no move to button up. “Problem solved,” he grinned.

“Wait what? What do you mean?” She blinked; one thought had entered her mind, but that would just add to the insanity of what was happening and she was sort of hoping she was-

“I paid your manager the difference for your wages and covered her for any loss in business with you gone,” he shrugged. “Come on, I’ll wait by the main door while you get whatever you need.”

-wrong.

 _What was happening?_ Before she could ask him anymore, he was was waving to Luxia and heading away from the counter towards the doors.

“What is going on?” she couldn't help blurting out as her manager approached. “Did that guy really just pay for me to…?” she couldn't even get words to make sense.

“He paid double actually, to be sure you’d still get your normal wage, though it’s slightly above that,” Luxia sighed. “He preferred round numbers, so you’ll be getting a decent tip this month, I daresay.”

“You’re _agreeing_ to this?” Katie choked - of all people she had been certain Luxia would have been the one to put the most objection up! Hell, she hadn’t even anticipated something like this - the whole setup was insane!

“Honey, I’m not a scientist, but I know for a fact that you’ll never get a chance like this again,” Luxia said. “I’m going to call you every hour just to be safe. If something is wrong, use our codewords for the shitty patrons, but I doubt you’ll have that problem.”

“Why?”

“Because that kid has a reputation to maintain,” she said, somewhat bitterly, though where that came from, Katie wasn’t sure. “Go on, go get your things, I can pull Ezor off the poles for the night. Maybe do a bar show. Pay me back by making sure you get that job.”

Katie stared at her, before turning in a daze, and headed for the locker rooms. After fetching her things, she made her way through the crowd towards the main doors.

Keith was waiting for her in the hallway, and looked up from his phone when she approached him.

“Car’s parked outside,” he said simply. “Shall we?”

* * *

**Miss_Moontow_1-03**

-UPLOADED NINE IMAGES-  
-UPLOADED ONE VIDEO-

Great night out with the gang! And guess who we spotted at **@Xanthuria_Official!** Back for a favourite drink or favourite bartender? She certainly makes a good gin sour! These were to die for! Spotted them leaving together? - lucky girl indeed <3 These are all the pictures - I’m so sorry for the video with my dodgy dancing X(

_#ClubXanthuria #Cocktails _#Gin_ _#GinSour #CocktailPorn_ #NightOut #TerribleDancer #KeithHawkins _

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**207 Likes**

_Wednesday 01 Oct – 2037 00:47am_

* * *

 

I discovered drink’stagram writing this and have no regrets. Also, supposed top fashion houses have freaking ugly clothes this year, so [ Keith’s Jacket ](https://www.dhresource.com/0x0s/f2-albu-g4-M00-E8-15-rBVaEVfOz-yAFXkDAAOk-1RpPM0526.jpg/fall-new-2016-mens-designer-clothing-british.jpg) is a random coat I found on google.

 

Thank you again to [@KDXArt](https://kdxart.tumblr.com/) for ironing out the kins, and to [@Aknazer](https://aknazer.tumblr.com/) for helping me work around the block I had with this chapter!

 _IF YOU ARE OF LEGAL DRINKING AGE,_ have a look at the running alcohol list. 

**Drinks so Far:**

CH 01

 _Keith:_  
[ Whiskey Sour ](https://youtu.be/a2_h8um0tWQ)

_Lance:_  
[Bramble](https://youtu.be/XwiyaLW1Up0),   
[ Painkiller ](https://youtu.be/q7pJcyFMJ7I)

CH 02

 _Misc:_  
[Margarita  
](https://youtu.be/XhXgmkP1r3c)Refresher bombs - A UK bombshot made from red bull, and blue after shock liqueur. Supposedly tastes like refresher bars, a lemon kids chewy lemon sweetie bar filled with sherbet.

CH 03

 _Keith:_  
[ White ‘Galra’ ](https://youtu.be/QNzvVEuBb4w)

_Misc:_  
[ Bluve Old fashioned](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bj2PMwKHE_g/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet)  
[ Blue Gin Sour  
](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bt1UYLxlNVO/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet)[Marmora Spring Punch](https://www.instagram.com/p/BtBanPCFkIh/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet)


	4. Time To Take Off

For a moment, Katie had wondered if she ought to tell Keith that driving after mixing vodka and coffee liqueur was generally frowned upon.Then she realised he lived in a bubble she couldn’t comprehend, because he wasn’t normal.

He was some rich kid, and instead of driving his own car, there was a driver waiting for them in a clean, pressed suit (minus the cap, though he did wear a beret) who and greeted them with a mock salute before

“Who’s your friend today?” The driver asked, opening the back door for her.

“Iverson, Pidge; she’s interviewing for the arm” Keith said. “Pidge, Iverson. He drives when I’m drunk, amongst other things.”

She’d stepped into a surreal reality, she realised trying not to appear as awkward as she felt as she slid into the offered seat. Keith moved around to the other side as the driver closed the door (after her quick ‘thank you!’ ), sliding in beside her.

“Pleasure to meet you miss.”

“S-Same, hi?” Katie blurted out.

“Where to kid?” Iverson asked, settling into the driver’s seat and checking his mirrors

“Just back to the loft for now, though I might need you later to take Pidge home,” he said.

“Alright. I’ll stop over fow tomorrow morning anyway, so drop a message about an hour before. Just a warning, it might take a little longer than usual to get back - there’s been an accident at the roundabout on the district crossing. Want the shutters on?”

Shutters? Katie looked around the car -  it wasn’t a limo, but there was indeed a privacy shutter between the driving and passenger seats and the back ones.

“No need,” Keith replied, and Katie wondered if she was disappointed or not as Iverson began to pull out onto the road.

The journey took about an hour altogether, the opposite direction to her own flat, which made her grimace at the thought of the trip back (she’d probably be faster taking the monorail later).

As promised, Luxia checked in with frequent messages, and a phone call about halfway through the trip; Katie almost wished she had something to tell her just to break up the quiet.

Keith asked a few generic questions, sipping at some water her taken from a small fridge between the front seats, and Katie answered them, sipping her own offered bottle they passed through the maze of skycrapers and luxury buildings, the fancy shopping centres that made up the inner ring of the central district.

Through the windows of the car, she took her time to look it all again. All the holo-ads projected onto the sides of buildings, the sweeps of colour as they reached  the inner ring, the adverts sweeping around Brodar Cyrk, the waves of a Bluve tourism beach advert following on the edge of the buildings the car as it glided around the circular junction, taking the exit towards the private districts.

After about ten more minutes, they reached their destination. The apartment complex they drove into was tall and sleek, grey white and brown sheet walls and, like everything else in the neighbourhood, modern.

The doorway and drive both had a keycard access, and before they drove past the security gates and under the building to the private parking area, Katie spied the windows all had small, clean juliette balconies.

The driver slipped the car into an alcove listed as 23-E, beside a bright red sports car of some sort, and two others she didn’t get the best look at.

“Thanks Mitch,” Keith said, snapping her from her gaze out of the windows.

“No problem kid, just mind and eat something. Have a good night.”

“I’ll drop by and see her soon. Night.”

Before Katie could process the exchange in full, Keith was opening the door, holding its steady for her as she followed and tried not to look too nosey as she stared (she still wasn’t openly gaping though).

He lead her towards what looked like a lift, which opened with yet another (different) keycard produced from his wallet.

Following inside, a little perturbed by the lack of ping and utter silence as it moved up, with considerably less jerkiness than was normal, she wondered if maybe she’d picked up some of the fumes from the alcohol tonight.

She was losing her mind, and she’d probably been too busy looking at Keith’s hair to pay attention to what was actually happening. It was the only reason she could think of for even letting something this ridiculous happen. She was still trying to wrap her head around that too - the notion dragging people from their jobs because it was convenient and buying four-thousand Gac bottles of alcohol like they just cost pocket change was something people actually did.

Keith was flicking through his phone, checking something and making various faces at whatever he was reading, and she wondered if she should ask him anything. Was this odd?

Standing in total silence with a guy who’d invited her back to his apartment seemed strange; in her experience, corridors and lifts were filled with heated looks and uncontrolled sexual impulses. Or at the very least, awkward small talk, or the jokes and laughter between old friends.

Really, just because he’d paid her manager the difference in her wages for her absence–seriously, who did things like that?–didn't mean she actually had to come back to some random guy’s apartment! She knew Luxia would be checking in regularly, but it was still a little unnerving. If it had been a different situation maybe not, but this was just… odd. Not knowing how to act made her a little uneasy.

She wasn’t under any delusions that he had that sort of interest in her–judging by the way he’d first interacted with his friend the first night he’d been in the bar, that was the last thing he was thinking of–and she was already acquainted with the fact that she knew nothing about the man, but still.

The silence was really, really weird. Luckily it didn’t last for long. The lift glided to a halt, after what had felt like at least ten floors. It didn’t open into a long hallway, but rather a square room with clean marble floors and wood panelled walls, low lighting in the tiles, and some sort of sculpture that probably had unique ideas in its design, but which just looked like a random carving to Katie.

She realised it was a private hallway, and they were probably in the building’s penthouse. Or one of them. The building seemed big enough to have at least.

Keith headed for the only door in the hallway besides the lift, lifting his hand to a genetic scanner beside the door frame. It glowed pink for a moment, then brightened to a lilac, purple tone and gave a low humming sound of approval as the security systems removed the locks, and the door slid open.

Keith stood to one side, his hand still on the controls, keeping the door open for her. Shaking her mixed thoughts aside for the moment she quickly stepped into the hallway beyond. The lights started on a low light, easy on the eyes at the early hour as she entered, and Keith followed quietly.

There was a step up to the main hallway, and in the immediate entrance, with smooth black brick lining the walls a small square of blackwood flooring, she could see a shoe rack filled with empty slots and plain but comfy looking house slippers. Eyeing the white marble floor beyond the small door square, Katie quickly removed her boots for a set of the slippers that looked her size.

Keith had already headed along the rest of the hallway in his socks, with less formality that only came from familiar surroundings, and she followed a bit further, nosiness and curiosity leading her attention to the apartment itself.

The door had, as she already noticed opened onto a short entrance hallway, purposed by the shoe rack and a small wooden coat rack fitted next to the door, and opened up by floor to ceiling mirrors on the opposite wall. It extended part way into the rest of the apartment, hiding the rest from view until she had followed the path directed around the corner.

It was like stepping into one of the alternate realities that she and Matt had used to make up together as children; the first thought after that was that Keith wasn’t just rich, he was _ridiculously_ rich.

The low lights continued through the rest of the large open floor plan that opened beyond the entrance. On her left was a room with a frosted glass door, and directly ahead of her was a dining area just  in front a large window, the low lights glinting on the tabletop.

The brick continued around that wall until it met a raised floor, and from there white paint, or perhaps some kind of cement, took over, and the white marble flooring that covered most of the main area became the same blackwood from the entrance square by the door.

The raised section was a large entertainment and seating area with chilli red sofas, a white rug, a large wall-fitted, block-work black bookcase full of _real books_. In front of the sofas was a full entertainment centre against the back wall, complete with fake fireplace beneath the large holo-stream screen. To the right was another room, smaller, tucked behind a set of spiralling iron stairs that led to the upper floors.

On the right, was the kitchen, and the dining area she had first seen. The wall that had blocked her view of the full room initially served as the back corner of the kitchen, filled with shiny appliances –a slim but tall fridge, dishwasher, a large six ring hob and oven–and a large breakfast and mixing bar that swept around into a curved island containing the sink. It even had a couple of beer taps in the corner before it evened out into the island.

Sleek white tile splash backs lined the walls behind the black counters, and the same seamless marble that she walked on so anxiously even in the softer shoes, swept across the counters, pouring over the edge of the island and blending so immaculately to the floor she couldn’t see where it began.

Stylised backlit shelves were tucked between the cabinets on the inner corner against the walls, behind the separating bar, for bottles of ingredients–cooking oils, spices and the like–and knives and pans and utensils snapped to a magnetic strip shelf behind the hob.

The back of the kitchen, against the wall, ran along to a small room next to the dining area; this one she could see, because beyond the small section that met the kitchen, the door and walls were simply glass, exposing the shelves within and the collection of expensive wines, vodkas, nunvill and other tipples.

In front of that was the dining table she had seen, sitting on a rather plain looking black rug, the black brick from before on the wall beyond. The glass table was maybe medium sized, with four chairs set around it.

On the whole, it looked like it cost more than her college debts and her parents house put together, and she was kind of scared to touch the furniture, never mind the floor.

“You live here?” She asked, blurting the words before she thought about the question.

“Pardon?” Keith blinked, looking up from a a holoscreen he’d accessed from the main apartment systems. He had shucked off his jacket, and was leaning back against of one of the sofas, and had already accessed the main apartment systems, pulling up an app as Katie silently investigated his home.

"I just…” She paused, catching herself before she said something stupid again. “It’s so clean. My brother is a complete slob, and this is cleaner than my mum’s kitchen,” she offered as an explanation. “I guess I was just expecting more mess.”

Looking around more closely, aside from a coffee cup on the island, and a couple of disheveled blankets on one of the sofa, it was bare of all the tiny unintentional quirks that made a home.

Behind the island was a window, no, sliding doors, that led out to one of the the small balcony she had seen from the car, framed with draping white curtains that would do absolutely nothing to do anything except look pretty. Unlike the kitchen, which had a few signs of use, the table looked more like a statue than anything else. It didn’t even have placemats. At least the island had a leftover coffee mug on the top.

Even if it was a modern style, or Keith was naturally neat and tidy, there was nothing that made the apartment look lived in. No trinkets on the bookshelf amongst those books, no piles of junk tucked away where they might be less noticeable, no dodgy counter doors like the one at her parents that had been broken since she was six and was propped up with a paint can. No magnets on the fridge holding notes and photos in place.

Even at her shoddy apartment, she’d snuck in pictures of her brother and parents, a couple of friends from school, from the early days of uni with Romelle and Ina. Even one from the bar from her last birthday. She could see a small picture that looked like a university graduation on the bookshelf, but she wasn’t close enough to see it clearly.

Even void of personal touches, it was still an amazing flat. The kind she’d see on the cover of glossy magazines that never looked like they were for living in. They always looked a little surreal. There was nothing that told a story about its owner. About all she could tell was-as noted already-Keith had money, and he maybe liked red (since it was the only bright colour on display).

“There’s no dusty corners or empty takeaway boxes,” she joked. There. That sounded better than what she really thought; which was that the place looked like a show home, and lacked nearly all normal sign of human existence.

“For the most part, I like being tidy, so stuff like that usually ends up in the rubbish bin," Keith replied, an amused quirk to his lips. “Now Lance’s place–the guy who was with me last night–would have all those wonderful accents to the ambience. Not to mention the housekeeper would probably kill me before tolerating that kind of thing here."

Well, that explained part of it, Katie thought: Keith had a housekeeper to pick up after him. But at least one that had encouraged basic responsibility in him.

Before she could get ask anything else, or get a look at the system interface, he had the program up and running. “This is just a basic set of testing scenarios,” he said. “There’s four altogether, and there’s another one to go through science knowledge. This is just to make sure you can keep up with the software you’d be using,” he explained, looking over his shoulder and beckoning her over.

She sat down and looked over at the introduction screen; it was already detailing some comprehensive tech, but nothing unfamiliar. It seemed a lot like the exams she’d taken for her entry to GalTech (and later GarrittU).

“Do I have a time limit?” She asked. It seemed like a stupid question but it was already ten ‘o’ clock? Eleven? It was certainly late.

“Not really, there’s normally a timeframe that gets looked at, but considering how unorthodox this is already, it would be weird not to give you a little leeway,” Keith said, getting to his feet and turning towards the kitchen. “If you’re worried about getting home, Iverson’ll take you,” he added. “Or I have a spare room you can use.”

“I… can you ask again a bit later?” She asked after moment. As much as she wasn’t sure about making the driver stay up to take her home, she also wasn’t sold on stopping overnight.

Keith nodded, and she heard some clattering as she turned back to the interface, and instead of being nosey, instead settled herself into her real task; she’d been dragged out of work for a job interview after all. She might as well get to work.

The dull noise of Keith walking around faded as she tapped her way into the first of the tests, and before she knew it, she had been drawn into familiar algorithms, key commands, and the faint static that came from the glowing lilac display.

If once thing was for sure; it was that this was, without any doubt, the strangest job interview she had ever had.

* * *

 

The dull noise of the oven and the clicks and confirmation sounds of the software as Pidge worked her way through the testing programs filled the apartment as Keith nursed a glass of water, waiting for the pizza from the freezer to cook.

It was now morning, about half two, and she had completed around half of the tests.

Keith reminded himself that the unusual situation would be something that counted against her timing. Not to mention the tweak Hunks had made to try and guard against press weirdos or stalkers (or heck, maybe some ‘ _spy_ ’ from Feyiv; Hunk lived in fear of Feyiv ‘ _spies_ ’).

Usually in the labs, the program had a timer. He was keeping track of the progress she was making with alerts silently sent to his phone, but it had been disabled on the program itself given the irregularity. He could hardly call it a fair evaluation with the time limit and strange hours, but he did want to see a little of the critical information.

He wasn’t discouraged; so far she had progressed fairly well. She seemed to handle the software well, almost like second nature, and he wondered if she’d used it in a previous job. He hadn’t asked about one, and the software wasn’t really in the public domain.

Perhaps university? She’d mentioned Garritt University, but he didn’t know which systems they used there. Most of the company’s student programs were tied into GalTech, so they shared the software with the partner university, but he didn’t know about others.  Arsalan had been similar, according to Hunk, but it could be anywhere. She could even have bought it herself, for a small fortune albeit, but it was available to buy.

A new alert showed on his phone; she’d completed the science and robotics checks. The timing was… okay. Not great, but again, he could afford to give her some leeway. Timing aside her scores were decent, enough that he could at least be sure she was the real deal.

Now she was moving into the creativity and pressure tests. Environmental set up on what working in the labs would be like, not to mention the aspects that bled into the business side of things.

At the end of the day, the company was still just that; it needed to maintain a certain amount of profit (Zarkon’s concerns were unfortunately not unfounded, which made him that much more of a pain in the neck), and if everyone on all the levels had a sense of how business worked, life was going to be smoother for everyone.

At least, that was what his father had said once, and even Zarkon couldn’t criticise his ideas too much, so he must have been onto something.

One of the alerts flicked orange - it was one of the creative sections that placed a set up in a team environment with deadlines and sought an effective division of the workload, and the orange alert indicated… less that stellar perception of what that question had been looking for.

Clicking into it, he could see that of the options and self worded answer sections, Pidge had picked out the most independent solutions, the ones which involved the least amount of work with other people.

It wasn’t bad. A lot of the scientists worked by themselves, but that was one of the questions he’d asked Hunk to include in the edited selection process this time around. This project had a lot to accomplish, not just for his own interests regarding Zarkon and the company as a whole. If they could get it to work, it would be groundbreaking medical tech.

Hundreds of years had passed since the first robotic prosthetics were invented; medical tech had advanced, and yet the ability to restore sensation in prosthetics to amputees was still locked away. It would almost certainly be life changing, and was exactly the sort of thing they ought to be focusing on.

Not military contracts, or data pads with ‘ _Increased VR projecting interfaces!_ ’

The oven beeped, and he dug a large platter and a couple of side plates from one of the cupboards, china clinking on the marble countertop. After slicing it up, he took it all over, small plates in one had, pizza the other, and a couple of bottles of water from the fridge tucked under one arm.

The woman was completely focused, oblivious even to the buzzing of her phone beside her, and the lights of insistent message notification. She didn’t even notice as he set down the platter on the coffee table, pulling it closer to the sofa.

Until he used a remote command to pause the software and she started frowning at her inability to continue did she look around, the smell of cheese and tomato sauce presumably interrupting.

“It’s just plain four–cheese,” he said when she raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to chance ham and pineapple. Lance always makes dying whale noises when I put one of those in.”

Pidge stared at the food for a moment, before reaching for one of the plates and taking a few slices. “Is this entirely allowable?” She asked, nodding to the paused testing software, even as she took a bite of her pizza. “It’s not really regular testing protocol.”

Keith, his own mouth full of food, nodded towards the clock on the top of the holoscreen until he’d finished chewing. “Its nearly 3:30am, and a few hours ago, we were in a bar. By any standards, this is not how most people expect an evening like that to go,” he chuckled. “I think your manager is blowing up your phone by the way,” he added, when the buzz of another notification sounded beside her.

As Pidge checked her phone, quickly launching a call to the woman, he turned back to his own, quietly looking at the rest of the markers that’s she’d worked past in the time he’d spent plating up.

Pidge seemed to prefer eating quickly rather than waste time talking for now, though she did ask a couple of questions after a little more curious glances around, first the few photos he kept downstairs– (‘ _Arsalan. 2033, so four years ago now’)–_ and a few more about the loft itself, mostly the location of a bathroom (‘ _that door on the right, behind the stairs_ ’). Once finished, and Pidge had checked in with her manager again, Keith clicked the pause off the software.

As she returned to the tasks, he flopped back on one of the sofas back, closing his eyes and tuning himself out with the soft, repetitive taps and clicks.

He didn’t sleep. Just napped. He’d be up for work soon anyway, and wanted to be up so that Pidge could decide about going home. There wasn’t much left for her to do, and when he cracked an eye open again, it was just a few moment before the completion alert flashed on his phone.

Sitting back up, he glanced at her screen. It had a save option, and a progression to actually start the application process; the alerts on his phone weren’t as impressive as the first ones had been, but it was late, and she had passed the system tests. The current screen was proof enough.

She at least was worth an interview or trial period, and that was good enough for now.

* * *

 

“You can save there,” Keith said after Katie had finished the last section and a new screen had loaded on the programme. “We can pick it up at the labs later, then you don’t have to worry about personal information not being secure. I’ll transfer the data to the company systems from here, if that’s alright?”

She considered it, then nodded, sweeping the screen around to him with a hand. After a few commands and swipes, and fingerprint check on his phone, the files were sent, and he turned back to her.

“I don’t know about you, but I need some sleep before work. Iverson should still be available to give you a lift home - he has a place here for when he’s on driving duty - or there’s a spare room,” he said pointing to the room off to their left, opposite the kitchen.

Logically, taking the lift home was more sensible but she was exhausted. It was about the same time she would normally be finishing at work, and she was already craving the burst of energy she usually got from her return ride nap on the monorail.

Those tests had been hard. Shed expected it–after seeing the data pad shed had an idea of what level of tech Keith worked with–but it had been a while since she’d used software like that, or even utilised her knowledge of robotics at all. Lately she’d spent more time looking up rifs for the bartender specials than she had investigating code or components of any sort.

She was probably as exhausted as Keith looked, and really just wanted to sleep. “Is it okay to take the spare room?” She settled finally.

Keith got to his feet, and led her to the first closed room she’d seen (the second had been a small bathroom) upon entering the apartment. He held the door open for her, and she noticed first that the room doubled as a study.

There was fairly cluttered corner desk. Not untidily - in that respect it was as clean as everything else in the apartment - but with lots of notepads, a few data pads in a large charging dock, processing drives, and several holoscreen’s on display.

“Just give me a second and I’ll shut this off,” he apologised as she looked around. “I’ll get the bed down too,” he added, pressing a button on the wall by the door before crossing to the desk.

A set of cupboards in the wall began to click and beep, and from the wall a Murphy bed began to carefully lower, low legs the height of a futon rising from the floor to meet it. From the cupboards framing the storage space for the bed, Keith pulled out a few blankets, some pillows and a clean, but already covered duvet.

“If you need any clothes, there should be something in one of the wardrobes that will fit. Ilun keeps a mix of things fresh just in case,” he said, nodding to the cupboards, which like everything else looked like a seamless part of the construction; in this case, the white panelling that filled the room. “You can take some for tomorrow too if you want.”

Once he’d dressed the bed, he opened another door against the back wall, revealing a fully fitted bathroom. The sink and toilet were closest to the door, and beyond a separating wall with a glass partition was a wall melded bath into the back, and from the ceiling hung a shiny, raindrop shower head, and several jets mounted into the walls too. The whole room was set up in a warmer shade of marble.

“There should be things in there if you want a shower,” he added as she poked her head around the door and tried not to oggle the shower too longingly. “Like I said, Ilun keeps thing pretty well stocked for whenever I have visitors. If it isn’t out, have a look through the counters. Will you be alright?”

Katie nodded, quickly pulling her head back. “I’ll be fine. What time do I need to set an alarm for?” She asked. “You have to be in at 10am if I remember correctly, don’t you?”

“Ideally. Will that be too early? I can come back to take you to the labs later if you want to sleep longer. I won’t be busy the whole morning.”

She had a feeling that was a lie, but decided not to call him out on it. She was too tired. “I’ll be fine. Coffee exists for a good reason, right?”

“As long as you’re happy with an early start, you’ll need to be ready to leave at 9am. Iverson will get us both breakfast before he arrives,” he nodded.

He crossed the room, intent to leave her to her own devices, and probably desperate for his own bed (which she assumed was upstairs), stopping in the doorway as the glass slid away to let him pass. “See you in the morning Pidge,” he said, smiling faintly.

And with the parting wishes, the door slid closed, and she was alone. For a moment, Katie stared around at the bedroom, fussing with the placement of the pillows, inspecting the room controls , and nosing a little at the bookcase next to the desk.

Then, curiosity sated, and reality pressing wearily on her eyelids, she let her exhaustion from the night take over, and still dressed, took a moment to flop face down on the bed.

What the hell had she got herself into?

* * *

 

Sorry for the delay. I ~~developed a small case of the plague~~ caught a bad cold and this was not good writing for a while. 


	5. So Wide Awake

The alarm at 8:30am was–in Katie’s opinion–far, far too early.

After Keith had left, she had found a set of pyjamas in the cupboards, which were stocked as well as Keith had said they would be with any and all articles of clothing. She fell asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.

Dragging herself up, it took a while for the memory of the previous night to catch up with her, and frankly, she still didn’t entirely know how she’d ended up in a strangers flat, on one of the softest mattresses she’d ever slept on, cursed with the knowledge that her own (once adequate and comfy) would never compare.

Her phone blared, and groaning, she rolled over flopping a hand ontop of it and finger mashing the screen until blissful silence temporarily returned. Unmoving from where she’d rolled herself, one arm still stretched across the edge of the bed, face down in the plush pillows, she tried to reason it all out; As far as she could make it, there had been a ten-step series of events that led to her current point:

 **_One_ ** **.** She had been on shift at the bar as she normally was.

 **_Two_ ** **.** A man with more money than sense was dragged out at the behest of his friend .

 **_Three_ ** **.** Katie had struck up conversation about his expensive taste in Balmeran bourbons.

 **_Four_ ** **.** Said man had been drunk enough to ask her help finding problems in his data pad.

 **_Five_ ** **.** Apparently, he remembered. Instead of calling the police, he decided to recruit her.

 ** _Six._** She had returned to work, and been offered a job by strange-handsome-rich-man.

 **_Seven_ ** **.** Despite her reservations, ‘ _Keith_ ’ had tried to persuade her to ditch work.

 **_Eight_ ** **.** He’d temporarily bought her from her manager. Somehow.

 **_Nine_ ** **.** Apparently Luxia encouraged that, because she’d all but chased Katie out of  the door.

 **_Ten_ ** **.** She got to ride in a shiny car with blacked out windows to Keith’s flat.

So, she knew how she had ended up in some fancy apartment in the fucking central district. What she didn’t understand was why none of it managed to make sense yet. Maybe it was the lack of sleep? Everything felt very surreal right now.

Still, she was here now, and Katie was nothing but an optimist. If this really was the chance she was waiting for, then she wanted to take it, and if not, well, Luxia was still checking in. She had the reassurance of a search party if she ended up in a human trafficking ring, or something else equally shady.

So she rolled out of bed, and after sending her manager another message to let her know she had survived the night, headed for the shiny bathroom.

The shower was absolute bliss compared to the dodgy communal ones she was used to in her apartment building, and it was as well-stocked as the bedroom, with everything from men’s cologne to feminine hygiene products. There was a small collection of makeup on one of the inner counter shelves, along with an electric shaver.

At first Katie hesitated, but she’d used the shower, and it was obvious that nobody else used the products or room aside from guests. So, along with her own makeup, she made use of the concealer to hide her eyebags. If this really was an interview, then she at least wanted to look the part, right?

She wasn’t sure about using the clothes she found in the wardrobe–a smart beige dress with an asymmetric hem, a cropped knitted jacket, some tights, and matching cream flats–but one sniff test of her own was enough. They stunk like cigarette smoke, alcohol and sweat. Definitely not a winning combination.

Instead, Katie pulled on the clean clothes, settling herself to returning them later. Provided this wasn’t some elaborate prank or ruse. She still couldn’t entirely rule that out, even if her host seemed trustworthy enough.

Picking up the rucksack where she’d stuffed her work clothes from the night before, she stepped back into the main living area. The pack didn’t really match her attempt to look like a respectable interviewee but she couldn’t win everything. Keith was already awake, standing in the kitchen draining the last dregs of a coffee mug like his life depended on it.

“Morning,” she greeted. “Thanks for letting me stay, and use this stuff,” she said, waving a hand at her outfit. “I really wasn’t looking forward to using dirty clothes. I’ll have it dry-cleaned and sent back as soon as I can.”

Keith grunted, still finishing his coffee, before dropping the mug from his lips. “It fine. Coffee is there,” he said pointing at a glinting machine that had thankfully already brewed into a percolator, distaste on his face as he opened a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the mug he’d just finished and rinsing it under the tap before pouring out a share of the dark, rich brew for herself. As she sipped she watched him down the water as quickly as the coffee. “Are you okay?”

“I hate black coffee,” he said simply. “Once you’re ready to go, we can leave. Iverson is already waiting for us.”

And of course with that information, she downed the coffee as quickly as she could. They headed back down the lift and hallway from the previous night, and as he had at the club, the driver was waiting for them beside the car.

“Did you even sleep?” He asked Keith, eyes critical and a furrow in his brow as he opened the door for them both.

Keith didn’t answer, and Katie felt strangely awkward, like she might end up with the driver’s wrath, since she was kind of the reason why Keith had been up till stupid am. With hopes of avoiding any side-eyed suspicious glances from the driver, she quickly shimmied across the seat to the other side of the car.

This looked so bad, she realised. Just because Keith had told his driver she was interviewing for something the previous night, would he actually believe that?

She was kind of a random girl from a bar who’d stopped overnight, and was now leaving with Keith in a wardrobe upgrade she could never have pictured for herself (seriously, the dress alone must cost thousands–She’d _seen_ the name tag). Sure. If she was in his position, she’d totally believe she had been there for an ‘ _interview_ ’. She could practically hear a snort (which sounded suspiciously like Matt) at the thought.

Sure. An interview. A naked one, maybe.

“A bit, it’s fine I have a break in the afternoon. I’ll get a nap in the office later.”

The driver closed the door once Keith had joined her in the backseat, and she couldn’t help feeling curiosity rise again. Office? She’d kind of assumed Keith worked with tech more directly, but that phrase made her take pause.

She had guessed he had some sort of position in a lab, but if it was a management position, then it explained a lot. Most scientists couldn’t afford something like that loft, even in good solid positions, with decent shares from their creations, and copyrights. If he was responsible for a tech department though, it made sense.

He’d have to be familiar with the tech enough to know how things progressed, and be the linking aspect between the working scientists and their superiors, eliminating direct involvement with them; it stood to reason too, that he’d be responsible along with the lead scientist for who was hired and who wasn’t.

The car spent some time moving through the city, taking a different route, back more in the direction of her own apartment. Or at least, back to the east district. They headed north east, towards the edge of the city, using the magnetic lanes in the roads to speed past the lower towers and industrial development districts between housing estates and high rise apartment buildings.

The musings must have helped her doze off, because when a hand on her shoulder jerked her awake, they were somewhere else completely. Looking out of the window, she could see that they were passing through a security gate, and stretched in front of them was single level, modern building with white walls and lots of glass.

“We’re here,” Keith said, pulling his hand back; her shoulder was warm from the gentle wake, and she shook herself as the car stopped, trying to get her composure back before she stepped out into the courtyard entrance Iverson had driven them to.

She was glad she’d taken the option of using the clothes in Keith’s wardrobe. A few people sat outside, on the benches of the landscaped car park and grounds, looking over data pads or talking under a shaded awning, all of them in various suits and blouses, dresses and skirts beneath their lab coats.

Luxia had been right. Katie could tell from the look of the whole place that this was way too elaborate to be any kind of ruse. Somehow, with crazy timing and a chance meeting, she had lucked out.

Now if only she knew where she was, that would be great, but there didn’t seem to be much in the way of identifying landmarks as she followed Keith inside the building.

* * *

The usual company propaganda was absent, unless it was going over her head.

She did see a sign above the reception desk, but it lacked any names or familiar slogans Katie might have recognised from adverts. Just a small stylised letter in one of the Galran scripts on a glowing purple background hung behind a sleek glass reception desk.

The receptionist took one look at Keith and his eyes nearly seemed to fall out of her head in shock, something very strange which didn't go unnoticed by Katie.

“I'd like a visitor’s chip for my companion please,” he said. “Accessible to the second floor labs and public areas.”

The poor receptionist nearly fell over his own tongue trying to get her details for one of the tags she'd seen people wearing around their wrist or mechs, or hanging off a few belt loops.

As she’d filled in a few details on a holoscreen and put her hand on a scanner for a basic print scan, one of the chips, Katie couldn't help but notice a couple of other people were watching in curiosity; it was weird as hell, and definitely made her uncomfortable when the eyes fell on her. Surely getting a visitors pass wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? Regardless she filled out the digital forms and after perhaps five minutes, she was walking towards the security barriers. The chip was held against a reader atop the turnstile, and once the pink glow turned blue, she could easily walk through the turnstile to the corridor beyond.

Waiting she noted that Keith didn't use the same scanner, rather a print scanner  beside the one she had used. Before she could ask how, he gestured along the hallway to one of the lifts with a finger, and not long after that, they were in yet another corridor. She had to hold her pass up to a few doors Keith led her through, before they finally reached the last one.

‘ _Lab E_ ’  was marked in silver metal on an illuminated plaque beside the door, with two names beneath it she didn't get time to look at before the door slid open.

The lab inside was the epitome of what she had once dreamed of working with. Holoscreens running simulations, projecting 3D diagrams, VR immersion simulators, were only part of the large room.

The other half was dedicated to computer mechanics, and she could see several projects in progress across several work benches. Several 3d printers lined one wall, and several more doors indicated that the gleaming white room was only part of the full lab.

“Dude, why are you so early?” A voice asked as she tried not like to stare at all the screens and prototypes like her birthday had come early. “I thought you didn’t need to be in for another hour today.”

“I wanted to get the final checks out of the way,” Keith said. “This is Pidge-”

“Katie,” she said, shaking her gaze from one screen displaying some promotional material for pacemaker tech that looked _extremely_ familiar. She had definitely seen that on a holoscreen somewhere. Maybe between streams? “My name is Katie. Katie Holt.”

She figured it was about time she cleared that up; Keith said nothing, and instead turned back to the man who had spoken, who had wandered over to join them from…

“Alright, Hunk, this is Katie, the girl who hacked Lotor’s data pad. Katie…?” He tested; she nodded dumbly, staring at the large, dark haired man she was being introduced to in shock. “Katie, this is Hun-”

“Hunk Galuvao,” she finished, trying not to choke.

Hunk Galuvao. _The_ Hunk Galuvao? The robotic engineer? In her confused shock, Katie made the decision to listen to her manager more often; she hadn’t just got lucky, she’d hit gold. This was so, so much more than she had been expecting.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but the level of tech that Mr. Galuvao usually worked with was what she had once hoped to get into through GalTech’s intern partnership with Hawkino…vate.

If the birthday subscription to her monthly tech journals was of any reliability (and academic journals usually were), Mr. Galuvao had extended his contracted projects at Hawkinovate for another six years, guaranteed.

This was Mr. Galuvao’s lab. She was standing in it. That meant she was in one of the laboratories managed by Hawkinovate. Specifically (she knew because of how often she had devoured articles about the company running her once preferred internship programme) the very, very distinct and near impossible to get into, _Samasama Laboratories_.

For his part, Mr Galuvao looked as confused as she was stunned and mildly terrified; he smiled and held his hand out with the usual interview politeness, then narrowed his eyes on Keith. “You paid her manager, didn’t you?”

Keith shrugged his shoulders. “She needed to do the preliminary tests, and I couldn’t take those to the bar,” he said, as if Hunk’s (correct) accusation was an entirely normal solution to the problem of timetabling conflict.

Hunk looked like he wanted to either hit something (preferably Keith) or scream, and Katie wondered if that was what _her_ face had looked like when Keith was making his crazy pitch the previous night. No wonder some of the customers had been giving her funny looks.

“Yeah, again, why are you so early? Your meetings aren’t till later are they? Lance is still moaning about having to borrow his sister’s moisturiser again. I don't think he's even left the flat yet,” Hunk asked, waving a data phone around for a moment.

“I figured coming in early would keep the vultures occupied while you took Katie through the rest of the application and started your own tests. Which I know you have.”

“Of course I do,” Hunk huffed, crossing his arm. “Don’t get me wrong I appreciate the help, but this is still my team. I’m not hiring her if she’s a flake just because of your gut feeling.” He paused, then turned towards her. “That wasn’t meant to offend you,” he said quickly. “Turn of phrase, I swear, if your hacking is anything to go by, I doubt you’re a flake. He just doesn’t understand pragmatism, so I have to be practical,” he explained.

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Katie said, hoping her voice didn’t sound faint from the conclusions that had dropped in the past few minutes. “None taken.”

“That’s why we’re here early, this way you have time to process whatever you need to,” Keith said, clearly unconcerned. “They’ll be too busy trying to get me to sign off on all their sections and projects that they won’t have time to come sniffing down and stick their noses in.”

“I can see Lowes and Torseth going for that, but not Gal or Tomita, and like hell your uncle will,” Hunk frowned. “Are you sure this is really going to work?”

“Oh, I’m certain they’ll have something to complain about,” Keith grinned. “Check the tags in your social media later,” he added, cryptically enough that Hunk began to eye his phone like it held the secrets of universe. “I’ll leave everything up to you for now.”

Hunk sighed. “Fine, since I’m awake and my lab staff are temporarily banished, I suppose I can occupy myself with an interview,” he said, shooting Katie an encouraging smile; quickly, she understood that his irritation was aimed at Keith. “I’ll go start getting the practical set up,” he sighed, heading towards one of the work benches, muttering to himself as he left and flipping through his phone, presumably in search of the tags Keith had mentioned.

“So… Mr. Galuvao is finishing the tests?” Katie asked Keith.

He nodded. “They aren’t all official ones, you passed those, but most of the lead scientists have their own requirements depending on their projects. Hunk’s going to check some thing pertaining to this one. He’s strict, but pretty fair. I think you’ll be fine, and he’ll keep you straight until I get back later.”

Katie tried not to make a face at the words; the thought of being left to fend for herself was kind of terrifying right now. She still only had limited information on what the rest of the tests would be, and was nervous to lose the only semi-familiar face.

“Paperwork?” She asked, trying not to sound as uneasy–or disappointed–as she felt.

“I wish, paperwork doesn’t give me migraines,” Keith snorted. “No, I’ve got some private appointments, and a full board meeting. I’d love to skip out on it, but it _is_ a distraction so that you and Hunk can work in peace,” he shrugged, chuckling a little. “I’ll come by once its over.”

She nodded for a moment, then she stopped, processing two of the words and realising, yet again, that she had missed something. “Wait, board meeting?” She blinked, “You don’t work here in the labs?”

“Founders save me, I _knew_ it,” Hunk bemoaned somewhere behind her.

The words didn’t inspire much more than confusion, and Keith shifted his gaze away when she looked at him for an explanation; he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, before reaching into a pocket on the inside of his suit jacket and pulling out a business card holder (seriously, how did anyone afford so much paper?)

“I… I’m not being rude, but I didn’t think I’d have to introduce myself properly,” he said, sounding sheepish for a moment, Taking out one of the cards, he handed one of them to her. “I probably should, but I’m running late, and need to drive back to the Central district, so this will have to do. See you later.”

Katie stared at him, then at the card he had handed her with an ominous feeling. Not the bad kind, but the kind that suggested she was about to learn something that everyone else around her was already privy to.

The card was black with the purple logo again, and she didn’t see any other information. Turning it over she stared at the white plain sans-serif font on the back, absorbing the words.

**Hawkinovate Inc**

Keith Hawkins

 _Appointment_ ℅ _Lance Serrano  
_ _Code: 5151513_

At first she was confused. Why bother with the expense of a _real-fucking-paper_ business card instead of an encrypted contact data share if it wasn't going to include what was probably crucial information–like department position, field of expertise, specialties, or notable qualifications?

Then she thought about the other details; she thought about the odd stares he’d been under in the bar, the driver, clear wealth, the high level access to technological developments, the board meetings.

Mostly she just looked at his second name, in pristine print beside his first, just below the name of the leading tech giant; _Keith Hawkins_.

“Oh, founders fuck me,” she swore, staring at the card.

“Yup, there it is,” Hunk mumbled to himself.

Really, it should have been obvious as soon as she realised this was Samasama. The name was one almost as well known as the company itself.

Keith wasn't some boring middleman, or lab clerk, and Katie so desperately wanted to kick herself for not working it out sooner; he was the fucking CEO.

* * *

Keith was right; after the main issues and minutes had been talked through at the board meeting, Tomita had plenty of complaints to make.

Most of the shareholders had left, either satisfied, or complacent enough with the decisions of the meeting, and for the most part it had been fairly uneventful. He was a little surprised that Summer hadn’t complained to Tomita about having the tablet be recalled, but even if he did, Keith wasn’t worried.

That decision had already been made with the taujeerian contractors, and the rest of the shareholders. Tomita wouldn’t be able to do anything about it even if he wanted to (which he most likely did).

Aside from Lance, who stood off to the side muttering into his handsfree chip and tapping away with a stylus at his phone screen, the only other people left were Duvall and Tomita. Duvall was busy checking over some of the figures that Lowes had brought up for one of the marketing campaigns.

Tomita had finished packing away the financial details, having copied them all into the newest figures, and was giving Keith a look. The disappointed dad look, only instead of being from someone whose opinion Keith might actually consider (Like his uncle, or Duvall) it was from Tomita, who was using it to try and install him with insecurity and uncertainty instead of offering actual advice.

“Is there something else Tomita?” He asked calmly, snapping the cover of his data pad back into place with a flick of his wrist. The snap of the magnetic cover twitched across the older man’s face for a moment.

“I was hoping to discuss something with you Mr Hawkins, if you can spare the time.”

Ugh. Hunk had better have got through the rest of the interview questions with Pidge

“Lance?”

“–no, Wednesday is no good…You have ten minutes dude,” he called over. “You’ve got a private meeting after that; I called in for Altean food through it and let the clients know, else you’re probably gonna starve again… no, not you! Yes friday is better, but only in the afternoon… yeah, yeah, I’m crying. Sorry mate, but it’s the only–”

“Alright, if you can condense it into ten minutes, go ahead,” Keith nodded after the confirmation.

He watched as the man squared himself, his massive shoulders squaring like some sort of imperious dictator. “I wished to discuss the current situation in the media streams,” he said. “It’s certainly nothing serious, and I realise you have a personal life, we all do, and we’ve all been young before. Rest assured I’m not discouraging you from enjoying that,” he smiled.

He sounded like he was talking to a five year old who wanted sweets; Keith assumed it was supposed to be placating. “However I would urge you to think a little more about your position; you are the face and name of this company, Keith. A little more discretion wouldn’t go amiss with your nighttime habits.”

Keith tried not to sneer or curl his lip as Zarkon casually dropped his name, like he had an authority to speak to him on familiar terms.

“And you’re qualified to criticise my personal life with _what?_ ” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. “I hardly behaved indecently.”

“You went to a strip club, and went home with one of the strippers!” Tomita snorted, condescension in his yellow irises. “How is that anything less than indecent?”

“Bartender,” Keith corrected, rolling his eyes, finishing the lockdown on his files and switching his data pad into sleep mode. “And yes, I went to a strip club. But if you want to scold me about where I spend my time, you should speak to Gal too, before his stripper boyfriend winds up in the media. He’s old enough to be his father, isn’t he?” He asked. “At least the people I spend my time with are my age.”

Tomita glowered at him. “Macidus is more acquainted with the concept of discretion, so I’m not worried about him,” he said, with false patience.

“I’m not sleeping with strippers, so you don’t need to worry about me either, but thank you for the concern,” Keith replied calmly, checking his phone. “Unless you have something else to talk about that isn’t my sex life, I need to go. I’d hate to be late to a meeting with one of our clients.”

Lance coughed several times, and  Keith _swore_ he heard Duvall clearing his throat; for his part, Zarkon’s face was schooled into calm almost perfectly. He nodded his goodbyes, and after collecting his own datapad, left the room.

From the other end of the table, Keith could feel eyes and he raised an eyebrow at Duvall, who was watching him from over the top of his figures.

“What?”

“As funny as it is to watch Tomita squirm, you really should try to humour him sometimes. He’ll be much less of a pain if he thinks you don’t know what you’re doing,” Antok said. “He’s the second largest shareholder. It’s not going to do you any favours in the long run by antagonising him. At some point, you might actually need him on your side. Even your father didn’t actively try to piss him off.”

“I didn’t antagonise him, I just told him the truth,” Keith frowned. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

“No but he had a point,” Antok reasoned. “No-one minds a bit of fun, but you do have a certain image to maintain now. I’m not saying you can’t have a personal life, just try to be a bit more careful. You aren't in college anymore. I know Kolivan told you as much already.”

Keith twitched, the phone in his pocket feeling a little heavier as he remembered his Uncle’s text from earlier in the morning to check, help him, if he was still using protection.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he muttered.

“Good,” Antok smiled, shaggy brown hair falling around his eyes as he got to his feet. “You’re doing fine Keith; it was a good meeting,” he said encouragingly; a little of the scolded child feeling faded, and along with Lance, Keith left the room, heading back to his office feeling satisfied with the morning so far.

“So, do you wanna tell me why I have a message from Hunk asking me to give you a re-education in basic manners?” Lance asked as they headed along the hallway towards the office.

“Not particularly,” Keith said.

“Is this anything to do with that picture making the rounds on the media streams?” his friend persisted as Keith put his palm up against the scanner to open the door. “The bartender from the other night? Hunk’s interviewing her or something?”

Keith attempted to keep silent, but his own guilt was his downfall. “I forgot to introduce myself, and one thing led to another and I kinda… just gave her a business card before I left the labs.”

Lance stared at him, and Keith tried not to flinch–why was he being scolded so much today?–when he rubbed his temples with his fingers. “God, Keith, every time I think you’re making progress… there is so much wrong with that. Why didn’t you just tell her last night?” he asked as they stepped into the room.

It was as big as any executive office could be, with big glass windows alongside the control desk. On the walls was a bit more entertainment besides holoscreens, with a few college and family photos cycling through the expanse of one section. There was a seating area with a coffee table against the windows too, for meetings with clients, like the one approaching.

In response to Lance’s question, Keith shrugged. “It never came up, and I kinda thought she’d worked it out by herself this morning.”

“That is not the point, and we are so going to talk about apologising to that poor woman later, but I just got a note from Ryan at the front desk that your client is here,” his Arusian friend sighed, much to Keith’s relief. “So I want you to think about what you might have done wrong while I go get them.”

“Very funny Lance,” he snorted, going to the desk and starting to open the files he’d need for the meeting.

“It’s hilarious. Awful, but hilarious,” Lance grinned, heading for the door. “Oh by the way, by the way, I had to schedule you in for a sponsors dinner next Friday. Investors like it when you show your face. It’s a dinner party over in the south end of Central–”

“What?!” he choked, whirling around as Lance made a rapid beeline for the door. “Lance I can’t get a date for something like that at such short–”

“–I already called Acxa, she’s free for the night! You’re welcome!” his PA singsonged, disappearing behind the sliding door to the office, escaping any wrath.

Keith groaned in defeat, but set about getting himself set up for the meeting all the same; the day had taken a funny turn right from that moment of stupidity at the labs, and he just hoped that the chain of events didn’t follow him into the meeting.

He filled enough time arranging sofa cushions, files and making sure there was one of the trays of fresh tea coffee and orange juice on the coffee table (with help from one of the other assistants on the floor) that he only had a few moments before the beep of Lance accessing the ID lock pinged through the room.

He was followed back into the room by a dark skinned Taujeerian man with neat, short brown hair, and beside him, a Terran man with a bionic prosthetic and forelock of white hair at his brow.

Smiling, he held out his hand–ignoring Lance’s pointed squint from behind the pair. “Mr. Shirogane,” he greeted politely. “It a pleasure to meet you. Keith Hawkins. Thank you for responding to my mail.”

The man laughed awkwardly. “Likewise, though I already knew… I mean, I’ve heard of the company, and… uh…Oh, this is my boyfriend, Curtis Blake–”.

Said boyfriend patted him on the shoulder. “Breathe Takashi.”

“Sorry,” Mr Shirogane said after a moment, as Keith extended his hand to the second man in a matching welcome.  “–I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”

Behind them, Lance shook his head in dismay, and slipped out of the room. Keith knew he’d be getting frog marched back to the labs later to apologise (which he’d have done anyway - he wasn’t an idiot!), and couldn’t help but wonder if Pidge and Hunk were having this much trouble at all across town.

“We didn’t think there would be any more options as far as prosthetics went,” his boyfriend said. “The message was a shock, to say the least.”

Keith sincerely hoped they were not, considering the reason for this whole meeting would depend on the results of the interview.

“Understandable, thank you for taking the time out of your day to come and meet with me. The message was sincere, and I’d like to discuss the options that might be of interest to you.” Keith nodded, holding an arm out towards the sofas. “If you’d like to take a seat, I can talk you through the developments we’ve been looking into.”

* * *

Enter Shiro and Curtis stage left! ~~Sorry, not sorry.~~

Lance is the world's best PA, but Keith. Keith, _no_. 


	6. My Own Way

Keith was the freaking CEO, and Katie was an idiot.

It didn't excuse his bad manners, but she couldn’t help feeling a little ridiculous as she poked and tweaked at the pile of equipment Hunk had directed her towards, a small welding tool in hand as she grafted a couple of circuit boards together.

Once she’d recovered from the shock–Hunk was as nice as he was in the interviews he sometimes made for tech streams–and had had a chance to think about all the strange hints, Katie had to admit that they were fairly obvious. If shad paid more attention from the first night Keith showed up at the bar, she probably would have worked it out.

But it still didn’t excuse Keith introducing himself with a damn business card, and she was sort of glad he wasn’t around for the rest of the tests Hunk took her through, because she might have messed up and was already running on very little energy.

Again, Hunk was a blessing, and she was going to cherish this day–even if she didn’t pass muster at his inspections–if only because she had the opportunity to work with Hunk Galuvao for but a few measly hours. It was a pity Keith hadn’t been a world renowned robotics engineer instead of just his boss; she would have recognised him from a mile away if he had.

After taking her through some general practical mechanics and computing tests with physical hardware, they’d arrived at another independent portion. He’d told her to make something, but the specifics weren’t very… well, there weren’t any specifics, honestly. Mr. Galuvao had told her to make something. Small, but functional on a basic level. She had the whole day if she wanted it; the only design criteria was that it needed to be something that, with further development, might be useful to the company.

It was something she was all too happy to do, if only to ignore the silent vibrations of her phone (which had been blowing up like crazy with notifications). She’d buried the thing at the bottom of her bag, but was worried about turning it off in case she got something from Matt. She’d left it on vibrate, but could still hear it having a fit.

Had she hit it off the wall or something to make it start going crazy? No, she knew that wasn’t it, but after tossing her bag to the other side of the room she managed to put it out of her mind, and focus on the task at hand.

Mr. Galuvao had left her to herself to come up with something. She thought about the pad Keith had asked her to hack into the day before yesterday–was that really only how long it had been? It felt like it had happened ages ago already–and something popped into her mind.

She was able to focus fairly well, even getting comfortable enough with his occasional chatter that her pumps were hanging free from her heels beneath the counter stool she’d taken for her own.

Still, as she worked, she couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she had missed the glaringly obvious signs.

The fact that he had his company network linked into his apartment was another thing too - even the higher-up middlemen didn’t get that much access to the database of a whole fucking company. Private datapads maybe, or unique access to direct phone lines depending on what department they worked for, but not direct home access to all the company files and systems.

Granted, she’d thought Keith might have been crazy when he told her that part, but upon arriving at the apartment, it was more than enough credit to his claims considering she’d gone through an entire recruitment test there. She really ought to have started wondering then.

Not to mention when he’d been telling her about the project itself (before he bought her time from her manager, and _that_ was still kind of mind boggling), the language he’d used was telling in and of itself. He’d spoken as someone who knew not just the intimate details of the project, but the background politics behind it very well too.

Nyma had recognised Keith at first sight (really, with her stream-stalking skills, that should have been a sign) but no, Katie thought he’d been part of _Hunk’s_ team. She’d even asked him if he would get into trouble for showing her the data pad in the first place.

She’d assumed at the time it was just a cocky blasé attitude to business hierarchy, and she had been right–Keith was still cocky, or he appeared to be, and had a very blasé attitude, especially in regards to money–but not out of restless rebellion.

The only person he had to answer to was himself, so of course he wasn’t worried about getting into trouble.

“Hey, you wanna take a break Pidge?” Mr. Galuvao called out. “You’ve been staring at that nanoboard for about an hour.”

Katie started, swirling the seat around until she was facing him. “Is that allowed?” she asked.

“Yeah? Breaks are important?” he said, as if she’d just stated the obvious. He was standing next to the fridge at the back of the lab with a carton of milk in hand. “I mean, I’m not a perfect example of a healthy work ethic, but I try. Plus, you look like you’re either thinking about murder, or need coffee, both of which I can empathise. Keith is kind of a handful sometimes.”

He said it so frankly that she couldn’t help but relax a little. “Coffee sounds good. Black and two sugars,” she nodded.

Nodding, he started taking a couple of mugs out of the cabinets, and firing up a fancy looking machine only a few shades less complex than the one she had seen in Keith’s apartment that morning, she slipped off the chair to look around the lab a little more.

“So, out of professional curiosity, how exactly did you find the bugs in the datapad?” he asked her as she peered at some of the analytic screens surrounding his workstation.

She knew better than to touch them, and she assumed that Hunk wouldn’t have been working on anything he didn’t want her to see due to clearance whilst she was still in the room.

“You want to know?” she blinked in surprise, looking up from the screens.

“Most people wouldn’t have been able to do that–” Katie watched as he rummaged around for something to dump the sugar into the mugs with, finally fishing a spoon from beneath a pile of dishes on the draining board. “–without a computer. Aha!”

That was fair, she supposed, trying not to wince. If it had been her work that someone had jumped into without asking and dug out all its flaws for the world to see, she’d want to know where they found them too.

Then again, she was fairly certain this wasn’t his work. She’d seen a few of the programmes he’d worked on, and none of it had the same type of coding. It was ridiculously clunky, with blatant holes and inaccuracies. Looking around, she pointed at a blank interface inquiringly, and Hunk nodded, finishing up the two cups of coffee and walking over to the station.

She noticed, as the engineer sat down beside her with the mugs, that one of the datapads was already plugged in. That seemed a little convenient, but she made no mention of it, and instead brought up a projection of the pad’s screen, and cracked her fingers.

Step by step, she showed him how she’d sidled her way in through the gaps in the code until they were out of the main systems, and the screen was showing the more detailed encryptions.

“…and then you scroll down a little more, aaaannnnd- There!” she pointed to a line of code that was mismatched with the other lines surrounding it. “This was it. It’s the interface,” she said, reaching for a generous mouthful the hot, dark drink. “There’s a loophole in the coding for the data recognition software. It doesn’t take you into the fingerprint ID or password algorithms, but it’s enough to get into the analytics and open up the main files history.”

“No wonder it was so easy to do without a hard drive. I can’t believe this made it to alpha testing,” Hunk muttered to himself. “Where did you learn this?” he asked, his own hands tapping away on the keyboard, delving further, finding the exact same patterns she had. “There’s no way they taught this at GarrittU.”

“No, definitely not,” she laughed. “My parents have a software design company. Dad taught me how to code properly when I started breaking into his computer because I thought I’d be able to watch gaming streams without parental controls there,” she said, setting down the mug. “Uh, Mr. Galuvao, is there a toilet anywhere nearby?” she asked, looking around the room.

Hunk made a face. “Hunk is fine, and uh, yeah, but you probably don’t want to use the lab one - the air con is kind of wonky and it’s not circulating air very well,” he said apologetically. “There’s another just down the hall and to the right, around the corner from Lab A.”

Katie nodded, taking the directions he’d given her. The hallway was long, but the doors were marked fairly clearly, and once she’d seen the sign for Lab G, she knew she needed to head in the opposite direction.

Turning back around she quickly got herself back on the right track, coming up past the Labs marked B and C. She couldn’t see inside the labs themselves, but there were plenty of designs of the walls, and she took a little time to look around. Some of the blueprints she’d seen on streams, from news interviews held in the labs, or from the public information releases. Some of them were old, like the phaser technology that the company founder had designed to work as a medical scalpel.

It had been a tiny, insignificant seeming thing a few decades back, but it had set the precedent for the rest of the company’s enterprises, and had brought nanotech into the medical field for the first time. It had been a revolution in the use of tech as a whole, creating a whole new field - the scope of which they were still pushing into further use.

“…told you to be careful Summer; I can’t come in and cover up your messes anymore; I’d have thought I made that clear before…”

Not just medicine, nanotech had evolved daily tech, bringing out the advent of virtual displays, heightened the use of VR immersion in cinematography, photo media, everything. Even the transportation systems made use of it.

“… much as it pains me to admit, he’s far from stupid; were that he was, I wouldn’t have to try and fix this mess now…”

It was a tiny paper, held in controlled glass to prevent decay, and she could imagine what kind of security would kick in if she so much as breathed on it (not that she would for fear of damaging it even behind the glass anyway), but it had kickstarted the third technological revolution.

“…warned you three years ago, consider this your last one.”

Katie was so busy gawking at the literal blueprint of technology history hanging on the wall between Labs A and B, she didn’t hear the slam of the door to Lab A closing, or hear the grumbles of someone heading in her direction until she had walked smack into the girth of someone much taller and wider than herself.

The collision brought a yelp of surprise from both Katie and the unfortunate person she had crashed into. Luckily no-one ended up on the floor (that would have been a great way to impress Mr. Galuvao), but the face of the dark haired man was absolutely thunderous.

“Did you even bother using your eyes?” he snapped, a snarling sneer curling on his lips. “Watch where you’re going!”

Katie liked to think she had a good handle on her temper–she worked with the public all the time, and you kind of had to develop a certain level of self-restraint to avoid going crazy–but the tone and look on the man’s face immediately struck the wrong chords with her.

“Hey, you’ve got eyes too,” she snapped back. “I’m sorry for rumpling your ti-”

“Wait,” the man said, his yellow irises glowering on her, brows furrowing as he scrutinised her. “I haven’t seen you in these labs before,” he almost growled, his voice raspy and as unpleasant as his sneer and intimidating posture. “Which department are you with? Who did you get your clearance from?”

Katie had learned in Uni, thanks to her shorter stature, that carrying her personal and any business related ID at all times was a useful thing to do, and she held up her chip, pressing a small sensor on the side that displayed the access information.

“I’m here for an interview,” she said, bending back as much as the lanyard would allow while the asshole in a fancy suit glowered at the projection of her information, and presumably her clearance permissions to be on the floor. “I’m just looking for the toilets.” She didn’t say the ‘ _arsehole_ ’ out loud, but it was more than implied.

He ignored her, frown and sneer both deepening. “This says your pass was issued by…” He frowned, again, though he tempered himself, quickly enough that Katie sensed this was not a man she wanted to get on the bad side of. “…May I? My eyes struggle with holoscreens sometimes,” he said, holding out a hand for the chip expectantly.

Katie doubted that very much, but he had that jumped up attitude that ‘ _important_ ’ people often did, and so, awkwardly, she un-looped the lanyard and let him take a closer look at the info projection. His eyes scanned the small, lilac screen intently, appearing neither happy nor angered as he examined it. Finally he handed it back to her.

She quickly put it back around her neck. She hadn’t expected the relief to sag her shoulders so much, but for a moment she’d kind of wondered if he was going to confiscate it, and she had… well, not earned, so much as chanced upon an opportunity to be there, but that wasn’t the point! She was hardly breaking in!

“My apologies,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was very apologetic, and was still looking at her like she’d spat on his shoes. “This is a high security facility, so entrance is strictly regulated, and new faces are… rare,” he said. Smiling a little, oily smile. “I wish you luck in your interview, Miss Holt.”

With that, he walked on by, not so close as to deliberately bump into her, but close enough that his massive frame felt like it would, making her shrink back against the wall until he had passed.

She waited until he had disappeared around the corner, before making a rude gesture, and continuing on in her search for the facilities.

“Arsehole.”

* * *

 

Despite his best intentions, Keith never did make it down to the Labs again that day. The meeting with Mr. Shirogane and his boyfriend about getting involved with the arm project took longer than he had expected.

...Well, not really. Being asked to come on and talk about potential life-changing experimental technology would beg a few questions from anyone involved, and since the project hadn’t actually started yet, there was a lot of scope for misunderstanding. Keith would have been worried if the man had straight up agreed there and then.

As it was, he’d asked his questions over lunch, and Mr. Blake had asked a few too. In the end, Mr. Shirogane had agreed to give some serious thought to coming on board with the re-kindled experiment, and promised to let Keith know his decision by the end of the week.

That had been followed by plenty of other meetings, other projects, and all the files detailing the past few years of the company turnovers under each of the shareholders he was trying to study. Keith knew that if he wanted to avoid the kind of dramatic board meetings frequently found in soap operas, he needed to know what each of them had been up to in the few years prior to his own inheritance of his parents’ shares.

He also had to prepare for the upcoming announcement regarding the Taujeerian contracts. Their own media streams had already made announcements, and there were already inquiries enough to cause lag on the HR servers. Antok had already complained about it, which mean that someone had to go out and make some sort of explanation.

He also needed to see Hunk’s feedback from–Pidge? Katie?–the bartender girl’s interview. He couldn’t get the project on the arm really kicked off to the point they could bring it up in the future developments announcement if they didn’t have a team working on it, and he really, really wanted to avoid working with some of the recommendations Tomita, Gal, and Sampson would come up with.

Hunk had already sent the results of his checks through, along with his assessment of her practical test, and Keith scanned his eyes over the report critically, raising eyebrow at the small triangular drone. Interesting.

A buzz echoed on the comms, and he looked away from the screen to flick a touchpad on the desk. “What is it Lance?” he asked.

‘ _You’ve got a visitor. Tomita wants to discuss a staffing issue with you?’_ ’ Lance’s voice echoed back irritably. ‘ _I did tell him this is your private work time, and that you’d be deep in the digital abyss but he’s insisting that he needs to talk to you._ ’

“If he has an issue with his office staff, he knows that he needs to talk to someone in Antok’s department,” Keith replied, already starting to feel weary just from dealing with the man indirectly–for someone who seemed perfectly capable of doing his job to his own ends, he seemed to be very good at running to Keith with every little minor thing instead of going through the proper channels. “That’s a HR thing.”

‘ _Yeah, I told him that too, but he said since you were the one who hired the person in question, he wanted to speak to you personally before taking any further steps._ ’

Zarkon wanted to…? Further steps? What? _Why?_ Suspicion was a feeling that Keith was, unfortunately, not unfamiliar with where Tomita was concerned, and it began to boil up in his gut uneasily.

“Send him in,” Keith said quickly, shutting down and locking in all the files on the arm that he’d had open.

Not moments after he had shut them all down did the doors slide open, and Zarkon’s massive stature strode into the room. He headed straight for the desk, already opening up a file on a new holoscreen. Keith barely blinked at that - Zarkon had a habit of acting like he owned the office every time he set foot inside it (which thankfully wasn’t often).

“Can I help you with something?” Keith asked him, trying not to put as much sarcastic tone in the words as he would have liked to, watching as a data profile came up on the screen.

“I was planning to forward this tomorrow but thought it would be better to inform you in person–” Zarkon started, flipping a quick wrist flex so that it was facing Keith directly; something about it was off. He was more insistent than usual. “–that I’ve asked Duvall to remove this woman’s clearance privileges.”

The visitors record of Katie Holt–Katie then?–hovered in front of him, the quick photograph from the morning registration easily identifying her before Keith even bothered looking at the name.

“Excuse me?” Keith frowned. “What exactly is the reason for that? If you suspect her permissions are fake, then I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I completed them myself.”

“Yes, I’m aware, however I wish to contest your decision to ever allow her admittance to any of our premises in the first place,” Zarkon said, sharply. “I took the liberty to double check her credentials, and realised you failed to submit her to a proper background check, and began my own investigation. I’ve included it so that you can see why this woman is highly unsuited-”

“Her initial background check was submitted alongside the application when she completed the pre-interview testing, as standard protocol,” Keith said, frowning in confusion. “The national database was clean.”

“I know, and I’m aware that it’s an unusual to pursue secondary checks so early, but I thought her name was familiar, so I checked with an associate surrounding her qualificati-”

“Garritt University is one of the best universities out of all the Marmoran territories,” Keith cut him off. “You voted to enter into a scholarship programme with them, rather than GalTech who we currently work with, last year. Her qualifications are on the national database and are, if the Lead who interviewed her is to be believed, extremely high. What exactly about that is concerning?”

“Keith–” Founders, not the first name thing again. “–I understand that, given the recent problems–”

“You mean the problems caused by a lead scientist that was employed under your recommendation? Whose projects have a trending pattern of loss against private investments? More than any other Lead in Samasama alone?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning back in his chair.

“–within the development teams, you are keen to take steps to bring fresh perspective to the department, and it’s a good idea, but we need to take more care in the selection process!” Zarkon finished, looking a little purple in the face.

“You just admitted that it’s a good idea, so what’s wrong with a few staff changes?” Keith asked.

“What’s wrong is that this is the woman from that damned club! You’re basing your entire perception of this girl on how good of a fuck she is!”

The air was tense, and for his part Zarkon flinched, realising he’d crossed one line too far. “I apologise,” he said, and for a moment he sounded almost completely sincere. “I only meant that–”

“That’s enough Tomita!” Keith snarled, slamming his hands on the desk and pushing himself to his feet. “I don’t give a shit.”

Zarkon stared at him. Keith stared back. For the first time in a long time, Keith enjoyed blissful silence whilst sharing airspace with the man.

“Excuse me?” he demanded.

“You heard me,” he said calmly. “I sorry you’ve gone to all this effort, but I really don’t care,” he snapped. “This woman has no pre-existing criminal records, nor previous employment with any of our competitors, and her qualifications are more than adequate. I see absolutely no reason to justify the way you’re acting when she hasn't even been hired yet!”

“Keith–”

“That’s _Hawkins_ , Tomita.”

“–you haven’t considered the timing at all! Don’t you find it suspicious that you find this woman who happens to be looking for a job exactly as the Taujeerians announce the change in project schedule?”

Keith usually had to think more when Tomita was trying force his hand on something, but right now, he was just confused. What the fuck was going on? Did he know about the arm? No, that was impossible.

Even Uncle Kolivan didn’t have access to his files, and he had to grant Hunk access to the research afresh every morning. No, Tomita was just having a fit because he recognised the girl from the media streams.

Still, this was kind of an overreaction.

“You think that Feyiv managed to walk one of their ‘ _spies_ ’ out in front of me, before I’d even made the decision to bring the problems–which have only just been identified–in the Taujeerian project to the board?” Keith asked him. “Before the Taujeerians could announce the delay on _their_ media?”

There was silence between them both, and finally, Tomita’s glower crumpled. He didn’t even sneer. “Very well, I can see my concern is… unfounded,” he said, with a little more composure. “I’ll–” he paused, looking like he was about to transfer his data file to Keith’s ID, but stopped. “–I’ll leave you to your preparations for tonight’s broadcast.”

Once he’d left the room, the doors sliding closed behind him with an anti-climatic, gently ‘ _whoosh_ ’ that set Keith more on edge than a slamming door would have. He stayed leant back in his chair for a moment, before leaning onto the desk, massaging his temples.

What the hell had that just been? He had been all over the place, and Keith still didn’t know if Zarkon had got what he wanted or not. Much more concerning was how the heck had Tomita even heard of a girl Keith could hardly remember the name of? Had he been down at the labs?

With one hand, he reached out for the comms. “Lance,” he started. “How quickly can you-”

‘- _I’m moving your six ‘o’ clock with Lowes to tomorrow morning. We can move the stream for the Taujeerian announcement up an hour. He looked pissed, so I figured it went well enough you’d get a migraine. Want take out later?_ ’

“Surprise me?”

‘ _Your will be done. Want me to forward the approval documents for Miss Holt on to Antok directly, and advise him to be quick with the acceptance notice?_ ’

“Thanks Lance.”

‘ _You always sound so surprised when I actually do my job,_ ’ his friend snorted in mock hurt. ‘ _Chillax my man, I’ll have this sorted before Tomita gets his cigar-stinking arse back to finance._ ’

The call clicked off, and with the relief of an earlier finish in a hopeful corner of his mind, Keith let out a groan of relief, and slowly slumped face-first on his desk.

He had a pile of things to do, but all the focus he’d had before Tomita stomped in like a toddler having a tantrum was gone; he didn’t even want to think about how much of a pain in the neck this was going to make the man for the foreseeable future. He’d have to double check every single one of his reports himself for weeks.

The metal of the desk was cool on his cheek, soothing the headache threatening to brew already. Keith couldn’t remember how long it had been since he actually slept, but quite frankly, a nap before the stream sounded perfect.

* * *

Iss. 9,956     Thursday 1 st Oct 2037      ₲ 4.97

**FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE**

_Release Date of Taujeerian Emergency Contracts Pushed Back at Hawkinovate Inc._

_________________________________________________

This afternoon, Taujeerian officials announced that they had agreed to a delay on new equipment and software being developed by Hawkinovate for the country’s rescue and aid teams.

The tech, which will allow rescue professionals and aid workers to more safely examine disaster stricken areas, provide protection, help to analyse earthquake and eruption data, and also help in locating survivors of natural disasters, has been pulled out of the alpha testing stage following the discovery of multiple errors and bugs within the design.

The announcement was lead by company CEO and owner, Keith Hawkins (26), following the weekly shareholders meeting. During the company broadcast, he explained the reasoning behind the decision, and discussed the implications it would have for future development within the company.

‘ _The main issues found were contained to one piece of tech which was being designed for operations during volcanic activity, however to be sure that no other projects contracted by the Taujeerian government are similarly compromised, all research teams involved at Samasama Laboratories,_ ’ he said, following questions on the extent to the problems found. _‘I have spoken to the Taujeerian representatives, and have assured them that provided no other problems are found, that our contractual obligations regarding the release date will still be met. I’d also like to take this opportunity to assure our other investors that reviews are being made into our processes. This kind of issue is unacceptable, and I have started my own inquiries into previous projects to compare this incident with others that occurred prior to my inauguration_.’

The full company stream can be viewed below.

**[VIDEO LINK]**

**Stream Time: 18:07PM - Live Broadcast**

Following the Taujeerian announcement, stock on the VTN 500 fell by 79.31 (0.88%), and trends are currently rising steadily. It is expected that shares will return to their previous positions over the next few days as more news from Hawkinovate, Inc becomes available.

This will not be the first time the subject of quality has emerged surrounding Hawkinovate technology, but it is the first time in several years since the falling standards have been directly addressed by executives.

This change in attitudes will come as a relief to many shareholders and investors. Critics have slighted the broadcast as a diversion from the media coverage of Mr. Hawkin’s personal habits, but the announcement matches with changes in the attitudes that have been progressing as the company adjusts to its new leadership ( _for related articles, see links below_ ).

The willingness to acknowledge accountability is not new, but reassuring.

_Article by Remdax Millsap._

**Video Source:** _Hawkinovate, Inc Company Website._

_________________________________________________

**_Other Related Articles:_ **

_Return to Roots in Fair Employment _; Unions applaud decision to reinstate past working support systems, including childcare, private health and dental, and financial schemes.

 _Military Investments & falling Stock _; Why the return of family ownership the medicine Hawkinovate needs, and the key role of Taujeerian investments.

* * *

 

So, Zarkon's a fun dude.  
~~Katie calm down your Hunk fangirl is showing~~    
~~not that I can blame her~~

Thank you to [KDXArt](https://kdxart.tumblr.com/) again for being an actual SAINT and beta-ing this chapter <3


	7. Fire Away

_https://www.scrutiniser.mrt_

Thursday 2nd Oct 2037      

****_________________________________________________**  
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SCRUTINISER**

Subscribe today for celebrity news, gossip, media news, and style and beauty columns for just ₲8.72!

**_________________________________________________**

**  
**Keith Hawkins; Back in the Social Sphere?  
_By Luka Wahlgren, Celebrity Editor._

**_________________________________________________**

In a second sighting since a photo taken by **@Miss_Moontow_1-03** on Wednesday night, Keith Hawkins, heir to the vast tech giant Hawkinovate and ₲170 billion fortune was seen with frequent friends and ‘ _associates_ ’ Seok Jin Jang and Acxa Luttrell at a private party in Fort Garritt’s central district, hours after a business press conference at the Vermillion Building.

Since taking over as CEO of Hawkinovate Inc, Keith has removed himself in most from any media interaction not related to said company, and that’s understandable. It’s no mean feat to run a business, never mind international ones, even in mature years.

A once frequent face in social circles across the MRT and Altea, he can be forgiven for changing priorities with his inheritance four years ago.

Following recent photos, suspicions are already circulating that now that he’s settled in his new position, Hawkins maybe returning to the social sphere, and may even be in search of a more permanent partner.

Set to turn 27 later this month, for years his romantic partners have been watched and envied, but the recent photo of him departing from **@Xanthuria_Official** with one of the staff hardly raises eyebrows for those familiar with his past exploits.

The choice to associate with Luttrell and Jang however _does_ raise curiosity.

Jang and Hawkins were together for 6 months, prior to Hawkins’ inheritance; Luttrell and Hawkins have been seen together several times at business events and dinners for Hawkinovate; and Hawkins has been Luttrell’s plus-one to August’s _Brodar Music Awards_ , amongst other events, for the past two years.

Several rumours have circulated regarding their relationship, but both have feverently denied any romantic attachements. Or at least ‘ _nothing on a permanent basis,_ ’ and both refuse to kiss and tell. Does their increased association signal the start of a different attitude?

It certainly wouldn’t come as a surprise, but it’s impossible to guess; Acxa isn’t one to talk about her personal life over her activism and music, and Hawkins is even less predisposed to personal interviews outside of his company obligations.

We’ll have to wait a little longer to find out if Acxa and Keith have graduated from Fort Garritt’s bachelor list.

**[ _See Brodar Awards Interviews for more details_ ].**

**_________________________________________________**

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[Like] [Comment] [Share]**

****_________________________________________________** **

**TOP 10 Bachelors & Bachelorettes:** Our list of the most eligible men and women in the MRT!

 **BRAND NEW:** In depth review of Serrano Cosmetics’ _Veradera3 Palette_ by style and beauty holo-vlogger, Plaxum Mae!

 **Statement Pieces:** Acxa Luttrell’s new single _‘Belly of The Beast’_ is as loud about Naxzellan independence as her recent catwalk presence for _Slav &Sven. _

* * *

When Katie finally got home, trying desperately to hide her face from nosy locals as she got out of the _far-too-shiny-for-the-area_ car that Keith had organised to take her home, she spent approximately twelve hours in bed recovering before reality dawned.

After all, just because she’d been through one of the most intensive, brain-breaking and terrifying interview processes of her life at what had once been her dream company to work for, didn’t mean reality didn’t still exist.

While the experience had been unusual (and she could now at least chime in with bragging rights whenever someone at Xanthuria was trying to sound impressive with an ‘ _I was talking to so-and-so’_ speech) she was more or less certain that her stroke of luck was over.

Keith may have taken an interest in her for a moment, but the guy in the hallway looked like the kind of ass that would make sure she didn’t get a job for the rest of her life. Not for any reason, other than the imagined slight of bumping into him, but just because he _could_.

Katie was almost certain he had some sort of pull: they didn’t let just anyone wander around Samasama, and that jerk had the sort of confidence that spoke of familiarity with the facility; his tone had been so insincere and smug that she was all but certain he would meddle around somehow. It wouldn’t be hard either—all he would need to do would be to call GalTech, and that would be the end of it.  

Much as it might be easier if she’d been born under a lucky star, Katie had learned one thing in recent years: she was not so fortuitous, and she just had to to things the old fashioned way. The past forty-eight hours had been the strangest in her life (and the last twenty-four within that even stranger), but she still had bills to pay. And unlike Mr. CEO Hawkins, they were ones that she couldn’t magically wave away with the flash of and account card the way he had when he’d literally paid her way out of work last night.

It was all so ludicrous that she still wasn’t entirely sure someone hadn’t drugged her somehow. Then again, she kept her water bottle sealed beneath the counter, so unless it had been Avok, then she doubted that was the case.

After sleeping for what felt like half of her life, she finally woke up, wishing more than anything that she could soak in a bath somewhere. Unfortunately, the communal washroom of her building only included showers, and she hadn’t been able to afford one of the more ‘ _luxurious_ ’ apartments on the upper floors that included them.

So, she staggered out of bed to get ready for her shift. From the corner of her eye, the dress and jacket she’d taken as fresh clothing stood out on the back of her desk chair where she’d tried to leave them a little more neatly than simply dumping them on the floor.

Would she need to dry clean them? She’d spilled coffee on the sleeve of the jacket later in the day, but didn’t expensive clothing need specific cleaning methods so that it didn’t get damaged? It felt weird to be keeping the clothes when she knew they were probably worth more than her monthly rent, but how exactly did she return them? She didn’t think she could just waltz up to the apartment building where Keith lived with them.

Casting the thought from her mind, she picked up her washthings and headed for the showers, returning to grab her backpack. Ready again for yet another night at the club, she only just remembered to dig her phone from the bottom of her rucksack before locking up.

Stuffing it into her pocket and popping her earbuds back in–where it buzzed _again_ , she really needed to check the stupid thing–she was still busy fighting with the locks (which seriously needed an update-the security system was buggy as hell; had it not violated her tenancy agreement, she would have done it herself) when Prorok, one of the other tenants, headed past her, on the way to the showers judging by his towel.

“Have a good night yesterday, Holt?” he asked, the smarmy, suggestive leer spread across his face she’d seen him eyeing the other residents with sometimes.

“What that supposed to mean?” she frowned.

He just waggled his eyebrows at her, like there should be some sort of understanding, before going on his way.

Shaking her weird neighbour from her mind, she synced her earbuds and hurried out of the building. She’d spent so much time lying in bed like a sloth that she’d have to run if she wanted to catch her train on the monorail.

It took some rushing, but in the end she made it to the station in time. It was close though, ending with a burst of running speed and yell of ‘ _wait! wait! wait!_ ’ After collapsing into her seat from the rush to the electric doors from the platform, Katie finally dug around inside her pocket for her phone; finally free to actual look at the thing, she grudgingly summoned the motivation to flick through the screen and clear out all the notifications she didn’t particularly care about.

The first few messages were from Luxia after she had let her know she was leaving for the proper interview that morning. It must have arrived when she dozed off looking at the timestamp.

The rest were different. First, a collection of stacked photo media notifications. Then, a call from her mother. Then, some more stacks, this time into the over thirty mark; another call from her mother; one from Matt. Even one from her father’s office (and his mobile) between yet more stacked notifications, with increasingly alarming numbers each time.

Tapping into the different apps-mostly the photo one she used for cocktail promotions at work-she found her social profiles inundated with messages, comments, likes and any other public interaction possible. Going through the photos of cocktails, mainly the most recent few that had been on offer for the past few nights, and the shared one from Xanthuria’s main account, her face paled as she looked at the comments more in depth.

 

 

> **MichelleSMH** Isn’t this the cocktail from the photo that girl posted? Is this the bartender from the picture?  
>  **HonestFox** It’s the same colour, I think the garnish is different but maybe it’s personal style?  
>  **Isaac_Adam_3** I just cross checked, its the same recipe, and definitley her. So…. On a scale of one to ten, what’s he like? ;)  
>  **Today’sTrendOfficial** Have a story to share? Contact one of our editors _here!_  
>  **Shadow-Rush** Jeez, maybe I should learn mixology if it’ll help me get a man like that  
>  **Shana_Llewisk** lol pckng up guys at wrk wht a slut  
>  **Eoin-B** Don’t count your chickens just yet honey, it’s not going to last <3  
>  **GabbyYota_X** Yeah, Keith hasn’t had a relationship since he broke up with that last one in college.

What the actual _fuck?_

 

 

> **economicslanguage** click here for free consultation on taxes and accounting!!! Quote ECON78 for 10% off follow up consultations!!!  
>  **Corey99** Why is everyone freaking out over this?  
>  **ghostGirl** IKR? So they had sex, big woop.  
>  **AtobeK9** Plus he’s practically married to Acxa already. She went to the Kraydah Conference with him. My husband works on the building management there, and its usually spouses only!!  
>  **KingJ_J** Am I the only one who’s here for the cocktail recipe? the bartender is cute tho  
>  **red188**  https://www.scrutiniser.mrt  
>  **red188** can everybody calm the fuck down now?
> 
>  

Looking up from the comments, a careful glance told her that yes, she was being stared at. One guy sitting across from her–some kind of businessman? He had a suit on–kept flicking his eyes between her and his own phone, and two teenagers a few rows back were staring in her direction, exchanging giggles.

Biting her lip as the train rushed along the tracks, deliberately turning up the volume on her earbuds, she quickly dove into an internet search.

A few taps and variations of ‘ _Xanthuria_ ’ and ‘ _Keith Hawkins_ ’ in the search bar quickly revealed the fruits of her effort; the first hit was the article one of the commentators had listed. The second was a photo post, one taken at the bar.

Tapping into the link, her stomach dropped as the image filled her screen. It was a collection, mostly of the drinks she’d made in the early hours of Thursday, but the last one in the post was a shot focused beyond the drinks, which had blurred out for attention onto her.

It was near the exit, as Keith opened the door for her after he’d paid Luxia to borrow her so she could take those tests. Only, that sort of thing didn't really translate into scandalous photography, and the pose certainly didn't help.

The way he was standing, door held with one hand, meeting her own eyes as she tilted her head back, asking something perhaps, they looked…

Who was she kidding–it looked like they were eye fucking each other already.

Trying not to curse, she quickly went back into the app and shut off the responses for non-friends (and blocked a couple of other less pleasant comment owners just in case), before turning her profile to private.

She’d have to talk to Luxia about using a new account for a while, or borrowing someone else’s. Part of the advertising was homebrew cocktails, and she needed the channel for the ones she made that ended up on the bar menus.

After that, she had to occupy her journey with something even more daunting - replying to her parents and her brother.

* * *

**The Monster Matt**

Scroll for earlier messages.

\--- 01st October 10:37am ---

 

[https:// _www.momentograph.mrt/Miss_Moontow_1-03/post/376889_ ]

sis, not gonna lie, i have some concerns for your wellbeing this morning

pidge?

KATIE.

[ _1 missed call_ ]

 

seriously, you need to check your phone more.

what the hell did you get yourself into?

call when you get this

preferably before the gossip section breaks  
down my office door for an exclusive

ALSO PHONE MUM AND DAD, PLEASE

they’re freaking out a little

dad keeps asking if i’ve heard from you

\--- 02nd October 2037 19:59pm ---

 

hey, sorry i didn’t call back - my phone was going nuts

no i didn’t fuck some rich boy

long story short, i think i had an interview

 

FINALLY

my first response to that would normally  
be ‘balderdash’ but i’ll humour you

for now

wait, how can you ‘think’ you hand an interview?

seriously, are you okay?

 

i’m fine, just getting to work  
are you still at the office?

 

Yeah there’s a ton of visa shit to  
fill out for my next research trip

 

if you’re still awake on taurine and caffeine,  
could you meet me at the club?

i’m fine, but some company  
wouldn’t go unappreciated

did something happen???

 

people are insane  
=’(

 

[Video Sent]

 

founders fuck me

no worries, i’ll come round before you finish

did you phone mum and dad yet?

 

\--- 02nd October 2037 23:07pm ---

 

you put your phone on silent again, didn’t you?

i’ll see you when you finish x

* * *

 

**DANGER It’s The Mothership**

\--- 01st October 203710:37am---

[ _2 missed calls_ ]

Katie, please phone us when you can.

We’re not angry, just worried sweetheart.

 

\--- 02nd October 2037 20:15pm ---

 

hi sorry i didn’t get back to you

just wanted to let you know i’m okay.

at work, I’ll try to call soon <3

Katie xxx

* * *

 

“So… you made this guy a drink, got too nerdy over his data pad, and he turned out to be some kind of shady businessman who wanted to ‘t _est you_ ’ back at his apartment?” Matt asked skeptically. “And you _agreed_ to go with him?”

“I mean, he wasn’t actually shady, and Luxia checked in all the time, and she knew who he was,” Katie shrugged.

“That is not making this better, and I should rat you out to Mum and Dad,” Matt grumbled. “That’s not even close to safe Katie,” he sighed, tapping in the lock code.

“I thought he was like a middle man or something, maybe the project admin,” she groaned, stepping in after him, the door closing softly behind them.

The interior was as calm as could be for being the home of a man about to move home; meaning that half of the boxes were hanging open, and the other half of all Matt’s junk still wasn’t packed up. It didn’t seem to concern him much.

In hindsight, her brother’s incredulous tone as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment sounded of kind of justified when he laid out the events as basic facts, but she really didn’t pay it much mind. She was tired and just wanted to crawl onto the sofa.

Work had been kind of scary.

The number of people who had shown up poking questions, asking if she was working, or even just shouting lewd comments, had been alarming. Rax had his work cut out for him along with the other bouncers throwing the idiots out.

Before she could even get her apron on, Luxia had put her foot down, and Katie found herself ushered down in the office to go through their inventories instead of her usual work. Thankfully Raht was back, so they weren’t too badly off on the bar, but still.

She couldn’t believe there was so much fuss over one potentially suggestive photograph, but here she was hiding in the office. And at least it gave her some extra time to try out some more homebrew recipes she was working on in the testing kitchen at the back of the room.

It had been a good way to whittle away the hours though, testing garnishes and the variations of her next prototype against different citrus juice mixers. She tended to lean towards lime, but wasn’t sure if the grapefruit would be better for the one she was planning.

It was for an upcoming Altean special week, and nunvill was… hard to combine with some flavours. It was definitely one of the more challenging spirits to try and mix, hence why she had taken the chance to work on her drinks.

By the end of the night (after taking tally of their syrup and fresh produce levels and cleaning out a few of the trays from the previous night that had been emptied), she had made some progress, and had finally decided on crushed ice in a metal mug rather than the long glass and skinny block of ice she had initially thought of. She was still testing rose syrups versus rose liqueurs, and young nunvills against aged tequilas, but she was making progress.

“Okay, okay,” Matt sighed, taking a breath and heading into the kitchen, squeezing his way past a tower of boxes containing what looked like his comic book collection. “Just, please, don’t do something that crazy again?” he asked, his voice a little pleading. “Please?”

“How many billionaires are you expecting me to bump into?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood as she went  to the cupboards in search of the fruit teas she kept for her sleepovers.

“Pidge.”

“I won’t be making a habit of it, I promise,” she said, turning from her search for a moment. “I know it was kind of risky,”  she admitted, popping a can of instant chamomile on the counter next to her mug (which Matt had kindly located for her). “I’m lucky it paid off.”

Matt reached a hand out, ruffling her hair affectionately. Pidge opened her mouth to complain, but she was too tired to protest, and her hair was already a mess anyway. She needed to cut it again, actually. It wouldn’t win awards, or make it into style magazines, but ever since the debts started piling up and she’d become more economical, she hadn’t done a half-bad job of it, really. And there were some great instructional holo-vlogs online.

“Back to that,” Matt said, leaning against the counter waiting to pour the water from the kettle to her mug. “You’ll have to tell me, because I’m still struggling with reality apparently, but… you somehow got an interview out of this? Somewhere?”

“I’m still not exactly sure how I did it, to be honest. When I asked about the datapad he gave it to me and told me to see what bugs I could find in it,” Katie frowned, swirling the dried powder for a few moments, tossing the spoon into the sink and following him through to the living room. “So I did, and he came back on…”

She couldn’t even remember, and flicked open her phone to check the datestamp on the offending picture. Honestly, she’d rather just drink her tea, chat with her brother for a little while to chill out, and then go straight to bed, but she really ought to check her personal profile, not just her work one too.

“…Thursday night. He asked if I’d take these tests, i thought he was crazy, he got less crazy-sounding, and one thing led to another-”

“And that’s why half the planet thinks you both had a one-night stand?” Matt checked as they flopped down on the sofa.

“-yeah I guess, though we didn’t. I mean, he gave me his spare room and some clothes, and cooked a pizza, but he just kinda napped while I went through the testing programme,” She sighed. Matt’s face spoke volumes, as if she sounded insane, and honestly, even she was struggling to work it all out now. “Then yesterday he took me to Samasama Labs for more-”

“-wait, seriously? Samasama?”

“-it gets better. The Lead supervising my secondary testing was Hunk Galuvao.”

“Did your nerd-crush have a fit?” Matt grinned.

“I controlled myself,” Katie sighed. “Of course, that was when Keith left. He was probably late for something, so he gave me a business card, and I wanted to crawl into a hole for not working it out sooner, so after that it wasn’t too hard.”

Matt held out an arm and she groaned, snuggling close. She heard from her brother every day ever since he left on his first few journalistic trips, but the last one had been a long one, and she had missed him more than she had expected. He was always the best at letting her rant and rave until all the frustration was out of her system.

“You really couldn’t make any of that up if you tried,” he chuckled. “Kinda makes me want to turn down this new assignment; I kinda wanna stick around and see what happens next.”

“How long before you leave again?” she asked, stifling a yawn. Flopped down beside her brother on his sofa, a mug of chamomile in hand, she realised just how exhausted she still was. “You’re not going back to Rijk are you?” she asked, logging out of her work account between mouthfuls of tea and into her personal one.

“Terrania and Drazan,” he said. “There’s been more activity at the border there that has been throwing the independence thing into shade. I’m here for a week to get everything moved over with Shiro and Curtis, then I fly out.”

Katie stared at all the notifications and messages from complete strangers she was suddenly flooded with, and wondered what the benefits of deleting all her social media accounts would be. “What happened to being an environmental reporter?” she asked, reluctantly going into the first app to start cleaning out all the junk and spam.

“This _is_ actually to do with the forestry and the hydropower resources; it does cross over with political affairs in Terrania though, so Allura is coming along too,” Matt yawned, waving a hand, peering over her shoulder, aiming a face at some of the comments as she deleted them. “Cause of the separation petition stuff.”

Katie raised an eyebrow, looking from her phone to the utter chaos surrounding them. “Are you even going to be able to move all this in a week?” she asked. She wasn’t the tidiest girl in the world, and she’d put some of it down to moving prep, but still.

“Not unless Shiro and Curtis get the keys anytime soon, they’re still in a hotel because the previous tenant still hasn’t left, but they’re hoping they’ll be out before-”

Whatever Matt had been about to say was cut off by the buzz of her phone, making both of them start. It wasn’t even the timing that bothered her.

She usually didn’t get home until about half past six, and Matt’s flat was about the same distance from Xanthuria as her own, so she’d adjusted her waking hours around that. The clock currently read 7am, so it wasn’t completely unusual to get a call so early, but she usually arranged callbacks with the finance company managing her repayments for this time, and it wasn’t one of those numbers.

There was no caller ID, and the number wasn’t listed. A quick check in her phone identified it as being restricted to manually access only, meaning that the number was only available to people who were given it directly. It buzzed a few more times, and she frowned, before hesitantly opening the call, hoping to death that some crazy person hadn’t hacked her number off the internet.

“Hello?” she asked, wondering who the hell would be calling her.

‘ _Hello, My name is Lance Serrano; I’d like to confirm that I’m speaking with a Miss Katie Holt?_ ’

Wait a minute. Serrano? The voice was unfamiliar, in the sense she couldn’t remember where she had heard it before, but she knew that name! Fumbling for a moment through the pockets of her jacket, she pulled out the business card, and her heart skipped a couple of beats.

‘ _I’m calling on behalf of Hawkinovate Inc regarding your application to our laboratories at Samasama. I apologise for the early call, but this was the best contact time that we had listed for you._ ’

“Yes, this is Katie Holt _,_ ” she said quickly, showing the card to her brother _‘It’s his PA!’_ she mouthed.

‘ _Wonderful, do you have a few moments to talk about your recent interview with Mr. Galuvao at Samasama? ’_ Mr. Serrano asked, ‘ _We’d like to go over some more details as a follow up to your results with your application. If now isn’t a good time, or you’re not comfortable on the phone, I can arrange a meeting instead._ ’

“No, that’s fine!” she blurted. “I mean, yes, I’m free right now,” she said, staring at Matt and waving her free hand excitedly at the phone.

 _‘Great! I’ll patch you through right now then!_ ’

There was a click and a small pause, before the sound of another phone picked up and  clicked through the speaker she held against her ear.

‘ _Miss Holt. Thank you for speaking with me so early. Lance wasn’t sure if the information on your application was accurate. I was hoping to speak with you regarding your interview yesterday.’_

The familiar, light tone but deeper voice came through the phone, and she tensed up. Why was she getting a callback? Was this rejection? But why did Keith phone her back? Didn’t he have… CEO things to do? Whatever they were (besides upending her work life).

“Um,” What a great start. “It’s fine, I just finished my shift,”she said, trying not to catch Matt’s eye as he quite clearly bugged in without any shame. “I can talk now.”

‘ _Wonderful, in that case, I’ll get right to it,_ ’ Keith said.

The difference in his voice was… unnerving almost. Different to what she’d been used to over the mishmash of hours she’d known him for. Maybe this was his work voice? She always spoke to patrons at the bar in a different tone to usual.

‘ _Hunk was impressed with the results of your practical tests, and based on his recommendations, and the results from the basic background checks with the public database, and providing you’re happy to answer a couple more questions, and I’m happy with the answers, I can’t see any reason not to offer you a contract with one of our upcoming projects._ ’

Katie’s jaw dropped for a moment, and she silently pointed in an excited manner at the phone to her brother, who judging by his whispers–‘ _wait, is that him?!’_ –was beginning to catch on too.

“That’s fine,” she said, lifting up an elbow to keep her brother from leaning in too close as he tried to listen in.

‘ _Great, so you’re obviously aware of the background checks, since you consented to them in the datadump,_ ’ Keith started. ‘ _It obviously includes your previous academic records and previous jobs, applications,_ ’ he said, and Katie felt her stomach drop as she realised what the question was going to build up to. ‘ _After examining it, I noticed that you were enrolled in our Intern project at GalTech before your switch to Garritt University three years ago; the system shouldn’t have been affected by the transfer, but I noticed that you dropped out of it at a fairly advance stage in the programme. May I ask why?_ ’

She bit her lip for a moment; this was her first chance at a job she’d been dreaming of since she was in high school. So far, word had preceded her about GalTech, and it had stopped her from getting any chance at all. Did she risk it, or did she just want to take the chance that had been dropped in front of her?

The experiment hadn’t failed because of her tech, but the lack of resources she and Romelle had been given access to, until she and her friend had been pushed into proceeding against their wishes. But she doubted anyone would believe that. They hadn’t so far, and Romelle had found just as much luck in the medical field as she had in robotics and computer tech.

Anyone else would have said no, made up an excuse straight away, but could she lie like that?

“The transfer was kind of unexpected,” she said finally. “I didn’t think that the programme would extend to another university besides GalTech, and… we just didn’t have the resources to keep it going without backup.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not really. She just… left out a few pieces of information. Keith hadn’t asked for them, so she wasn’t under any obligation to reveal them anyway. She hadn’t broken any laws. The circumstances had just been overwhelmingly unpleasant.

Still, was this right? Keith had already been pretty fair, and kinda nice (besides the shitty introduction and upending her life for two to three days). Even avoiding the issue, so to speak, didn’t feel right. But what other options did she have right now?

‘ _Fair enough,_ ’ Keith said, his tone a little distant, like he was unsure, or focusing on something else. ‘ _I also noticed that you’d applied for several positions with other companies previously, even Feyiv, which I’m a little hurt by, competition and all, but regardless, you’ve been unsuccessful with those applications…_ ’ he continued. ‘ _Were you ever given any indication to the reason why? I apologise if this seems too nosey, but given your academic record and test results, quite frankly it struck me as strange that nobody would have hired you sooner._ ’

“I…” Katie swallowed. “...I never really found out. I mostly assumed that they just found someone more qualified.”

The snort on the other end of the phone call made her start. ‘ _Well, I think they’re idiots,_ ’ he said, without a hint of mock or any joke in his voice. ‘ _In the next few days we’ll be starting a project that I have a particular investment in, which is why I’m handling the staff more directly than usual. I’m keen to see it succeed, and if you’re still interested in working out a project contract, then I’d like to offer you a position on the team._ ’

Was she breathing? Katie felt like she had forgotten how to breathe, and it was only Matt’s repeated shoulder nudging her that reminded her that Keith needed a reply.

“Absolutely.”

‘ _Fantastic. I’ll make sure the registration and your access details are sent out today, along with the normal details. If you need anymore time to organise things with your current employer, just call Antok in HR, his information will be available in the documents._ ’

“Yes!” Oh founders, was this actually happening? “Thank you!”

 _‘Thank you for trusting a potential crazy man in the first place,’_ he chuckled, more relaxed, and less formal, _‘I’ll be looking forward to working with you Pidge._ ’

“Katie,” she said, before thinking much about it. “My real name is Katie.”

The call ended and the warm tone in Keith’s voice lingered beyond the mechanical echo in her ear on her cheeks.She had a job. Somehow, shed managed to get through the background check, and someone was actually willing to hire her. She felt like crying or jumping and dancing, but she was still a bit shocked.

“Katie, huh?” Matt grinned raising an eyebrow, once she’d tapped out of the call function. “Lemme guess, this guy is a ‘ _total ten_ ’ on the footsie scale?” her brother snorted beside her.

It was probably more like a fifteen, but Katie would die before she told Matt that, so, she turned on her brother and whacked him (and his teasing) with a cushion instead.

* * *

 

Sorry for the update delay - I was visiting my dad and extended family for a couple of days, and there was a lot of flying, trains, taxis, ~~and leaving my purse and ID in my dads car 30 minutes before take-off,~~ so its been a fun time!


	8. All 'Bout My Business

**Sender:**  AntokDuvall@VermillionHR.HWI.org

 **CC:**                   KeithHawkins@Vermillion.HWI.org

                       HunkGaluvao@Samasama.HWI.org

 **Replying To:** KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG-East.mrt

* * *

Saturday 3rd October 2037

17:18pm

>>See previous emails.

* * *

 **Hawkinovate  
** **Inc**

 

**Miss Katie Holt,**

Thank you for forwarding the details of your availability. I have arranged your schedule with the Lead Scientist of your contract, and we can now proceed with the final legal paperwork.

Following our messages, I am pleased to enclose the details of your contract of employment, and all the details you will require prior to the commencement of your employment with Hawkinovate, Inc.

As a world renowned company, Hawkinovate, Inc employs the highest of standards in all members of its staff, at every level, and you will be expected to uphold these standards at all times. Included in this datadump are full regulations across the company, an outline of the expectations within your contract, a list of all premises of to which you will have access, and a live document which you will be required to fill out so that you will have right of entry upon arrival.

All of our employees at Samasama are employed by contractual requirements, and upon applying a digital fingerprint to the document enclosed, you agree to all the terms and conditions within.

Details of your contract and work are not included, as these are based solely on the requirements of the lead scientists, and the projects currently being developed, and vary significantly between employees as well as the labs themselves.

Please fill in all the required paperwork before your agreed start date.

I wish you luck in your new position; welcome to Hawkinovate, Inc.

Sincerely,

**Antok Duvall**

_Chief of Human Resources._

* * *

_ <This message contains 18 attachments> _

* * *

**Hawkinovate** **  
** **Inc**

 

**Samasama Laboratories**

Contract of Employment

Science Division

 

Enclosed is a full and complete contract of employment within Hawkinovate, Inc’s science division, centred at Samasama Laboratories.

By applying a digital thumbprint to this document, you agree to all the terms and conditions set out within this document. Please ensure any amendments are requested and settled via section five before signing, as changes cannot be made after.

  1. [Click here for Contract Brief]
  2. [Click here for Contents Guide]
  3. [Click here for Full Contract]
    1. Safety Protocols
    2. Non-Disclosure Policies
    3. Employee Privacy
    4. Private Research
    5. Holiday requests and guidelines
    6. Parental leave
    7. Sickness and prolonged absence
    8. Regulations
    9. Offences
    10. Employee Entitlements
      1. Transport
      2. Dentalcare
      3. Access Codes
      4. Public Resources
      5. Industry Events
      6. Personal Assistance Funding
      7. Banking
      8. Housing Initiatives
  4. [Click here for Footnotes]
  5. [Click here for Amendment suggestions]
  6. [Click here for Contract Summary]



This contract is offered by Hawkinovate, Inc to Miss Katie Holt at the disclosure of Lead Scientist Hunk Galuvao, Science Chief Ulaz Vosloo, and by the permissions of Keith Hawkins, CEO.

**Signed**

_[ID Confirmed]_ _  
_ Hunk Galuvao

 _[ID Confirmed]_ _  
_ Ulaz Vosloo

 _[ID Confirmed]_ _  
_ Keith Hawkins

 

**I, the undersigned,**

_Understand all of the information presented in this document detailing my employment with Hawkinovate, Inc. I confirm that I have consulted and followed up any amendments prior to my agreements, and confirm that any changes to this contract following that agreement must be pursued with full legal support._

_By applying my digital fingerprint, I confirm full understanding of the document, and my role in employment._

**Signed**

_[ID Confirmed]_ _  
_ Katie Holt

* * *

The alarm blared at five am, and Katie was already awake, trying to sleep but too keen for her alarm to shriek for the first time in a long time to have managed much.

Shutting off the noise, she quickly jumped out of bed, scrambling for the basket of washthings she’d set by her door the previous night, grabbing a towel, and heading for the shower.

She could still hardly believe any of this had happened, but lo and behold, mere hours after Keith had called her about the job she had supposedly landed did the official confirmation arrive in her personal data hub.

She had gone straight down to Luxia to show her and arrange when she could finish at Xanthuria. Her manager had been as enthusiastic as she had been in throwing her out of the door with Keith when it came to helping her arrange her last shifts.

By the end of it, Katie had been crying from the relief and gratitude and reality that came when Luxia altered the shift rota, marking her down for holidays before her termination date so she had a few days to prepare and wouldn’t miss out on a wage.

Katie felt a little guilty for a moment when Romelle approached her - they had both joined at the same time and she felt like it wasn’t fair that she had managed to work her way back into the career she wanted, and her friend was stuck here (not that Xanthuria was the worst place to work–Luxia made the effort to make it a decent place for the staff).

Later, Romelle had assured her that while she was a little jealous, she would rather see her make the most of the chance she’d stumbled across, and that went a long way in bolstering Katie’s confidence with the whole thing.

At the end of the night–which the others had made into a celebration by changing the menu to all of her drink recipes, including the specials–Luxia handed her her tip jar and there were a lot of tears shed between Nyma and Ezor and Tavo. Katie ended up promising to join everyone on the staff night out planned in the next couple of months.

That had been Saturday. It was now Thursday, and all the paperwork had been filled out and returned. She had gone through her contract, and was moderately satisfied with it. She had looked at them when she had been at GalTech, and while it was invariably different, the basic clauses hadn’t changed too much.

She checked through the list of buildings she had access to in limited scopes; first up was Samasama, the GalTech library, the archive database, and a couple of other labs designed for specific testing purposes. After that she had lesser access, but still significantly more than a civilian or student, to the medical archives of Garritt University Hospital and their medical labs.

Last but not least was the Vermillion Building - she was allowed to request access there, and could make emergency appointments with certain staff. Katie noted with the info that came back after she’d processed all the paperwork - in a list of her permission grants - that she could access the restaurant, lifts access to the executive floors, not to mention a datadrop with Mr. Serrano’s desk line.

She tried not to think too much about that last one, and succeeded. Mostly because she had been more preoccupied with the paperwork and her wardrobe.

Once everything was confirmed, she had to admit, she had panicked. After putting away the credits in her tip jar to the bank into a savings account, after a payment onto her electric bill, she had kept a small amount aside.

After that she gone to a much needed hairdressers, and bought a couple of growth treatments, in an attempt to repair horror she had subjected herself (and her mother one holo-call) to with kitchen scissors.

She’d cut it all off for practicality but it had been within the reasonable expectations for bar staff. It didn’t really work for a company that specified in her contract that she would be expected to deal with the media in regard to her work, as all the work by the labs would eventually be made public.

It wasn’t so much the length, just the choppiness and haphazard style that was the problem, in her eyes at least. The treatments wouldn’t do much for a few more days, but once there was some more length, she could come back and get a cleaner, more polished cut.

This morning, she kind of wished she had gone shopping as she looked at the meagre contents of her wardrobe; after she’d had to move from her old flat, she’d sold her more polished work clothes, except for the better pieces, but even those were kind of worn and shabby.

One dress smelled of damp, and the other had been eaten by moths. Her black shirt from the bar might work if she put a cardigan over the sewn name badge reading ‘ _Pidge_ ’, but the skirt was way too short, and not entirely suitable for lab work. Her trousers stunk of alcohol that some drunk had spilled on her the night before.

Of course, she could have worn the clothes Keith had given/lent her, but of course, she had sent those for dry cleaning. Finally settling on the shirt and a cardigan, she turned settled on the darkest pair of jeans she owned. They at least weren’t baggy, smelly, and covered her behind, and it was temporary.

She just hoped Hunk didn’t mind too much. He hadn’t worn a suit or anything under his lab coat, but neither did she when she had been working on practical experiments back in college. If she had to guess, he’d probably taken the jacket off and left his shirt on.

She didn’t look awful, she decided, after a quick check in the mirror. Not ideal, but at least clean and presentable. There still wasn’t much she could do with her hair, so she had a quick bowl of cereal, downloading a few extra books into her datapad before tucking it into her backpack, and heading off for her train.

The last thing she wanted was to be late on her first day.

* * *

The monorail didn’t take her directly to the Labs.

After making it to the station and boarding the early morning service to the fringes of the East District, she had to get off at the last station, and walk the rest of the way. It was a bit longer than it would be taking a taxi, but she couldn’t afford one of those, and the walking wouldn’t kill her.

It took about an hour for her to get to the labs from the monorail station. Eventually the sleek shape of the building and flat, neat trimmed grass of Samasama’s grounds came into view as she left the busier section of the suburbs. Wryly, she noticed the company logo on a sleek ground sign at the start of the drive up to the security gates. She didn’t see anyone else walking, but it was later in the day, close to the start of the day for a lot of management types.

Thankfully the guard didn’t raise any eyebrows, and just told her where she could find the direct pathway next time after checking her ID. From there she headed directly to the front desk Keith had taken her to before, and gave the receptionist another ID check to get a full access chip. Like some of the other people floating around, she had it fixed into a wristband, and after a few more datadrops with premises maps and the like, she made her way down into the labs.

It was further than she thought, and as she made her way through the halls, she noticed a few people looking at her in curiosity, a few with signs of recognition. She hoped it was from the other day, and not the photograph still making its rounds on the internet. Or maybe it was the jeans?

Whatever it was, she made her way through the clean halls, and down to the lower levels unfazed. It wasn’t hard to find her way back to Hunk’s lab, and a glance through the glass on the door showed him already pottering around, starting up some of the machines and testing units. After a moment of looking around, she found the access pad, and held up the wristband with her chip.

It glowed from pink to blue, and the door slid quietly open to let her inside.

“Oh great, you made it!” Hunk beamed, looking towards the door from behind a few holo-screens he was. “I wasn’t sure if you’d need help finding your way back. I was going to head up to reception and meet you after I’d finished setting up.”

While he had looked fairly presentable the other day, today he was even more polished. The leather in his shoes had been well shined, and his trousers pressed neatly, the light sheen of the fabric testament to their quality.

There was a suit jacket hung carefully over the back of one chair; beneath his labcoat he wore a pristine butter yellow shirt, and a white silk tie with his black waistcoat. It was hard to think of him as anything but the head of the lab.

“It wasn’t hard, and everything was in the datadump,” she assured him. “I wanted to get here earlier, but I had to walk from the station,” she added looking around at the lab again. She really was here, wasn’t she? It still felt surreal. She hadn’t been so lucky for a long time, years in fact. “Um, can I put my things down where I was the other day?” she asked, one hand on the strap of her backpack.

“Oh yeah, I need to give you the full tour,” Hunk said; his eyes flicked back to the holoscreens surrounding what she assumed was his desk, and after opening a few more, he headed towards the back of the room, beckoning her to follow him. “Even better, the aircon is fixed!” he cried excitedly. “So the toilets are safe again,” he said opening the door for a standard toilet, with some slightly fancier appliances than the standard lab. It even had a closed off back section with a shower sign on the door.

“This is the nap room,” Hunk continued, opening the door to the right of the toilet. “We usually end up camping overnight when deadlines close in, so all the labs have bunks,” he explained. Looking inside, Katie took note of the two sets of bunks, and four small built in wardrobes, with panels for names.

“My office is at the back over there,” Hunk waved an arm towards another door to the right of the kitchen. “Nadia has one next to the bunk room, and this,” he said, opening the door to the left of the toilets. “Is yours.”

Katie stared at him, then through the door. There was a full desk unit, presumably with multiple screens like the main control hub in the main lab, a back countertop with microscopes and various other basic lab tech, a couple of chairs, a small lockable storage cupboard, and a decorative shelf unit.

“All the scientists employed here get their own private workspace,” Hunk explained, presumably guessing her shock. “Besides the group projects we work on as a team, you’ll have your own singular developments to work on. Plus it’s not healthy to be cooped up up with the same people all the time,” he added. “Keith’s Pa designed the layouts because he hated not having his own workspace when he was developing the PhaseBlade and phaser nanotech. I can’t say I think it was a bad decision.”

Katie nodded, still looking around at the room; she probably had that wild-eyed expression her mum’s cat used to get every time it watched blackbirds land in the garden, just before it hid under the sofa.

She shook it off though, and dropped her bag into one of the chairs, unzipping it and pulling out the cardigan she’d folded as neatly as she could against her datapads and hard storage drives. Hunk watched her as she hung up her coat and pulled it on, covering up the name badge by buttoning it up a little.

Catching him, she winced. “I know, not the best clothing choices, but I had limited options. I promise, I don’t normally turn up for lab work in jeans,” she said quickly. “Or any work for that matter. I just don’t have anything else until that stuff Keith lent me gets back from the dry cleaners or my wage from Xanthuria comes through and I can get a few more things.”

Hunk grinned. “It’s cool, still better than what I wore my first day here - I had to fly over after the Balmeran Energy Convention and my sister’s birthday party. I still had beach shorts on and was hung over from the drinks, and there’s photographic evidence to prove it” he grinned. He paused, then pulled out a phone though. “That said, Keith is going to drop by during the weekly lab inspections to see our new brief, and he might be less okay with it,” he frowned, tapping out a message of some sort.

Katie winced. Great. Her first day, and she had already goofed. Unintentionally, but still.

Perhaps sensing her concern, or judging where her mind was going from the look on her face, Hunk quickly waved for her to follow him through to the main lab. “Not that he’d fire you or anything,” he said quickly. “Keith’s not like that, normally he probably wouldn’t even notice, but… this project is different. Even I’ve gone more professional lately - I usually just wear t-shirts,” he said sounding a little mournful as he pulled up a file on one of the central desk’s holo-screens.

“Let’s forget about that for now though, bring up the file I’ve just sent you on your access chip.”

Katie nodded, quickly tapping up the small screen; she realised it was set up with the company account she had set up at the reception earlier, and an attachment icon was highlighted. Tapping it, she blinked in surprise as the screen expanded, revealing the blueprints and details of the small triangular bot she’d come up with the other day.

“That my robot,” she blinked.

“Yup, that’s going to be your first project. Ulaz checked it out and he thinks it has a lot of potential,” Hunk said. “If you can do anything with it in the next three months, we might even be able to add it into our company project with the Taujeerians, if it’s suitable. My lab has already finished their major testing, and we’re already in production, so we have time to help you adapt it if that becomes an option.”

Her tiny robot? It was just a little thing she’d come up with to help with data transfer, or unlock doors for people and things. She kind of didn’t believe she could get the little guy to the level of international tech that the stuff for Taujeeria presumably required, but if Hunk said that was going to be her first private project, she’d definitely try.

“What exactly are the requirements for that contract?” she asked. “As in, I get that it’s a search-and-rescue tech investment, I watch the streams, but what exactly is required from the tech? Am I allowed to look at that?” she asked.

Hunk grinned, and opened up another screen. A barcode flashed, and after holding up her chip, it opened on her own screen.

“Okay… Pidge?” he double-checked.

“Sure.”

“Pidge,” Hunk nodded. “Okay, so the first thing the Taujeerians required was temperature tolerance, not just in the shell, but in all the internal mechanisms…”

* * *

 

The time passed quickly, and as far as mornings went, for Katie it had been a good one so far.

The second member of the Lab, a Taujeerian woman (like Hunk) named Nadia Rizavi, rushed in not long after her own arrival. She was very energetic, chattering herself into a panic about being late to meet the new team member, before Hunk had grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around, and then pointed in Katie’s direction.

“Nadia, Pidge,” he said simply. “Pidge, Nadia.”

And what followed had been an enthusiastic introduction in which Katie learned that Nadia was a chemical engineer and physicist, had also graduated from Fort Garritt, and had an extreme love of action films. Her project was part of the Taujeerian contract, designed to help stop lava flows. She’d developed small detonators filled with freezing chemicals to not necessarily freeze the flows, but cool them enough that they would start solidifying by themselves.

They were designed to be dropped from the air. He biggest problem was the remote management had a time deficit as even the protected surfaces didn’t last long when dropped onto liquid rock up to 1200ºC in temperature. The heat still interrupted the computerised systems.

That had instantly been Katie’s language, and a few quick curious questions about what type of data transfer system she was using, and where it was in the detonators, resulted in Nadia dragging her to her desk, and showing her the code and basic software of the devices.

That was up till around ten am, when someone else walked into the lab.

“You called, don’t tell me I don’t deliver Hunk!”

Looking up for a moment, Katie recognised the tall, slender man with brown hair; his suit was as sleek and well made as Hunk’s was, but whereas her Lead’s choice of style was more practical, more subtle and reliant on good fitting and fabrics, this man was the opposite.

His trousers were pipe-cut, narrow at the ankle with no turn-ups, with a thin navy belt. the jacket he wore over his waistcoat was just as snug, the sleeves elbow length and shawl lapels, bright aqua blue over a navy shirt and white tie, and navy loafers. It was a style that was carried by his narrow frame and the tight cut of the clothing.

The only items he carried were a phone, a datapad folio tucked under one arm, and a garment bag and clothes hanger slung over one shoulder as he tapped away at the phone. He looked suspiciously like the man she’d seen at the bar with Keith the first time he’d been there.

“Doesn’t Keith have a meeting this morning with Lowes?” Hunk asked, getting to his feet and taking the bag from the man. “How did you manage this so early?”

“I was already heading out to get breakfast, so I just swung by Keith’s place to pick these up,” the stranger said looking around. His eyes landed on her and he grinned. “Aha! These must be for you… Katie? Pidge?” He beamed. “I’m Lance Serrano; I think we met at the bar, and spoke on the phone last week.”

Oh. The secretary? PA? She wasn’t sure exactly, but at least she was keeping up with the faces that were probably going to come in and out of the door, judging by Hunk friendly and Nadia’s unconcerned reactions. Nadia hadn’t even bothered looking up from her work.

“Pidge is fine. Nice to meet you,” Katie nodded. “What do you mean those are for me?”

“I asked Lance to find something for you to keep you going until you get more sorted,” Hunk said. “Normally I wouldn’t, but the introduction will be recorded for development broadcasts later on, so… yeah jeans aren’t going to work. But after today, there’s no pressure!” he added quickly. “Here come look, see what fits.”

Getting to her feet and taking the bag from Hunk, she unzipped it and peered inside. There were a few different things, in different colours, and she guessed that Lance had picked a bunch of things in various sizes. With labels that made her want to choke. One shirt still had a label on, and Katie knew it would be bad for her health to look at it.

“Are you leaving already?” Hunk asked as Lance gave a mock salute and headed back to the door.

“Yeah, I still have to get breakfast. And I think I forgot to tell Keith about Lowes.”

The door closed behind him, and Katie kind of felt she’d just witnessed a small hurricane.

“Where did he say he got these from again?” she asked.

“Keith’s place,” Hunk shrugged. “If you don’t want to change yet that’s fine by me. Just so long as its before we start our project brief,” he said. “I’m making coffee if anybody wants.”

Katie mumbled an agreement along side Nadia’s, deciding to slip into the toilet to start going through the clothes. She had no idea what would fit, so it could potentially take a while. Stepping inside and hanging the bag up on a hook beside the door, she tried not to think about the origins of the clothing.

It wasn't as if Keith knew his PA had been to his house, so it definitely wasn’t weird, but it did pose another worry; was she even okay to wear this stuff again? Before she’d had verbal permission, but did it still count if his PA had hijacked his wardrobe?

Speaking of which, he’d said that his housekeeper kept things well-stocked for when he had visitors, but was that really why Keith had women’s clothes in his apartment? Should that worry her? Probably, but she didn’t really have the time to right now.

Katie held up the first of the garments after pulling off her jeans and shirt, a skirt in a pale minty green with an at least useful looking storage pocket on the front, and a crushed silky short-sleeved top with a draped neck-line. Still trying to convince herself, she sighed, and pulled it all on on to try. There was a matching collarless blazer with it too, and she pulled that on, and fished a pair of white leather knee boots from the second bag. 

After eyeing the scrunching on them, she pulled them a little straighter, satisfied when they held the shape. Then she looked it all in the mirror above the sink, peering and leaning in so she could see her feet, trying to get an idea of how it looked.

It was a bit awkward with the way she was positioning herself to see, but it looked okay? She couldn’t really tell too well. It felt comfy enough, and didn’t look too baggy or too tight. That was good, right? Staring at her reflection, she spent several minutes trying to convince herself that she had nothing to worry about.

She wished it sounded convincing. No matter how much she reasoned or tried to tell herself that Lance and Hunk were probably right, that she had no reason to worry if they weren’t about wearing her…boss’s boss’s boss’s clothes?

Still weird.

* * *

 “…missed you last Thursday,” Kinkade purred.

The floors of the Vermillion building were glossy marble, with dark walls, and a single red instance of the company logo hung above the reception desk Lance was leaning over to flaunt himself at the receptionist. It was one pm, and so far, the day was progressing as standard. Not brilliantly, but not terribly either.

“…I know, the broadcast kinda took over. I’m sorry I had to cancel on you.”

“Hey I work here too, and I’m just the welcome smile guy. Besides…” Kinkade leaned in a little closer over the desk. “I’m sure you can make it up to me.”

Keith watched from the top of his green tea as Lance made progress of getting in the front entrance secretary’s pants, wondering how long he could stand there without feeling like the awkward third wheel. He had no problems with Lance having a social life. He just wished he could be anywhere but here, listening to Lance’s flirting.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if Lance hadn’t dashed off from his desk earlier that morning, just when he had an interview with Lowes and her new secondary marketing chief, to talk about some rebranding options. Ladnok wasn’t so bad when she was outside the boardroom at least, and was competent, but the recent setbacks and evidence of losses from Rabe-Summer’s lab had made her nervous.

She already wanted to think about navigating a failed project, and had made the appointment with Lance fairly recently. Unfortunately, with Lance gone, and being too focused on checking up with the other Lead Scientists and Ulaz, he hadn’t really been as prepared as he could have been. He’d managed, but felt like his tail feathers had been ruffled, and he felt like he should probably say something, but all they were doing was waiting, so it was hardly a major inconvenience.

Iverson had been escorting some guests to another building. It was a set of offices just down the road, but the timing hadn’t been ideal, since he and Lance were due at Samasama. With the final opening on Hunk’s main team filled, they could start working on the arm and the briefs of the development it had already gone through, brainstorming ideas for how to go ahead. They were going to be a little late as it was.

“How about you come round later,” Lance murmured back, carefully brushing a non-existent eyelash off Kinkade’s cheek with a thumb. “I think I have a few ways I can do that. I heard you’re into cinematography?”

Keith choked on his tea, and quickly shut off his ears, looking around desperately, hoping some of the lounge sofas weren’t occupied, but there were too many people around. If he sat down, someone was bound to come up with something. But that would be better–nay– _immensely_ preferable to listening to Lance plan a sextape with Kinkade.

“Keith, I was hoping to find you before you left for the weekly lab inspections.”

The voice behind him ushered waves of relief, and Keith turned his back on his PA, much happier to see his uncle. “I’m waiting for Iverson to get back. He’s taking the professors from Garritt University up to the hospital so they can get an idea of the contract. I thought you were out of your office today?”

“I am, but I wanted to come in and speak to you,” His uncle said.

Kolivan had always been a tall, large, square faced and shouldered man, and while he was older now, he was as sturdy and and confident as he always had been. He always looked as though he knew what he was doing, even if Keith knew he didn’t.

“I’d rather wait here. Is it important?”

“I had hoped for more privacy,” Kolivan murmured, looking a little conflicted. “But I have a meeting with Zarkon and Antok about my leaving date, and I’d rather you heard it from me first.

Keith tried not to tense up at the mention of his uncle’s retirement, but he’d settled with the idea weeks back. He still wished Kolivan could stay a little longer, because half the time he couldn’t bear the thought of talking with the board and shareholders without him.

He knew it was the right thing - his uncle was nearly seventy-five. He’d more than earned retirement, and he was looking forward to it.

“Hear what?” he asked. “Just tell me. Last thing either of us want is Tomita grumping around because he thinks we stiffed him for time.”

“Indeed,” his uncle said after a pause.

He looked around, then gestured to one of the square pillars that seperated the seating area from a small bar and cafe meant for patrons and visitors. Keith followed him until he stopped by one of the seats, a sofa and coffee table, and sat down beside him.

“What is it?” he asked more quietly, a little worried; for his uncle to be so quiet about something usually meant it wasn’t good.

“Despite my attempts to rearrange the representative role, I’ll be attending the Kraydah conference this year,” Kolivan said after a breath. His eyes were softer to anyone who knew them well, and full of apology. “I’m afraid I won’t be here on the 18th. I wanted to make sure I told you on person, rather than have Tomita or someone else make the announcement.”

Keith sucked in a breath then nodded. “I suppose it’s not surprising, it’s a cliquey conference; they probably wouldn’t let Tomita in anyway because he isn’t family,” he mused. He glanced back up at his uncle and gave him a half smile. “I’m sure I can find something to do,” he assured his uncle. “I’ll be fine.”

Lance chose that moment to break off his flirting and look around, waving once when he caught sight of him, pointing to his watch.

“Lance is done batting eyelashes, we’ll need to go,” he said, getting to his feet. “But thank you for telling me,” he said. “I’ll stop by later if you’re not tired?”

Kolivan nodded. “I’ll have Illun ask the cook for tofu-stew and steamed eggs. Eight?”

“I’ll see you then,” Keith nodded, waving to his uncle and making his way back to Lance, who was already waiting by the doorway.

“Dude, you okay?” Lance asked as they headed through the sliding doors down the steps towards the car. “You look like someone spat in your eggs.”

“Just got bored of listening to you plan your new career as a cam boy,” Keith chuckled. “Make sure you keep those videos if you sleep with him.”

Lance choked and spluttered all the way down to the car.

* * *

Lunch was about an hour and a half.

Nadia took her up to the canteen; there was some food in a reasonably sized café, which she noticed most of the other staff were buying with their ID chips. Picking up some macaroni cheese to go with the snacks and veg she’d brought with her for the day, Nadia explained that most of the science division staff had discounts at company-owned businesses (including the cafe, which was owned cooperatively by those working there).

They were soon done, and Katie took a while to try and familiarise herself with the grounds. It wasn’t so large a building that she thought she would get lost easily, but it was large enough, even if most of the signs were clear, and she had a map in her datachip that was easily accessible.

It felt like too long though. After years to develop ideas in her head, and no means to put them into practice, she wasn’t sure she’d even be using the break that much anyway. She just wanted to get back to beautiful, shiny, anti-bac sterilised scented lab.

Getting back ahead of Nadia, who had been been hijacked by a blonde girl from another lab Katie thought she recognised in the hallway, Hunk was already busy setting up some a few recording drones, checking the hover and connection to his control panel. There was already a ring of chairs around it.

“I’ve already sent the main files to your account,” Hunk told her, glaring at one of the drone’s controls, tapping several times on the holoscreen before it finally bleeped and his shoulders slumped in relief. “If you want to get a look now, that’s fine. Everyone else should be here soon.”

Nodding, Katie went through into her office ( _her office!_ ) for her datapad. It wasn’t the newest model by any means, but it kept up thanks to the mods she’d made on it at GarrittU. Hopefully she’d be able to think about a new one soon - she’d need it, and she was reasonably certain the salary from her contract would be enough to cover that when she got her first payment.

Fishing it from her backpack, she went back into the main lab, connecting the account, and quickly finding the datadump from Hunk as Nadia rushed in, almost skidding into the seat beside her; ‘Sorry! I got caught up with Ina -  Rabe-Summer’s datapads are being passed on to another team after all,” she said quickly. “And I saw the Gaffer talking to the head of Lab C.”

The first page was the company logo again, along with the lab information, as well as personnel list. She tried not to be too excited by the ‘ _K.Holt_ ’ mixed in amongst the other names, and quickly put her hand on the screen for the access prompt. It switched to the happy blue of access granted, and she moved on to the main page.

“Nah, Ina had to go back pretty quick, she said she’d tell me later,” Nadia shrugged (‘ _That’s even worse!_ ’ Hunk muttered to himself.) “I saw the Gaffer talking to the head of Lab C, so figured I’d better get back before they got here anyway.”

The page was filled by a diagram that would be able to be viewed in 3D projection, and if the picture of the arm itself didn’t suggest what the project was, then at the top of the page was the project title; ‘ _Prosthetics Development 57-B: Adaptation for Cognitive Function & Non-Simulated Sensation. _’

“Hey, so you would be late if he wasn’t showing up?”

“…I’m going with not intentionally?”

Katie ignored the background chatter, absorbing the details of the project, turning the page and going through the brief attentively. Scanning the synopsis, she found it explained the title exactly as it sounded, but anything regarding the mechanics and details of how the systems were supposed to work was completely absent.

“I should kick you out on principle, but we need a chemical engineer for this.”

“Who’s getting kicked out? Not me I hope, we’ve only just got here.”

Katie, froze looking over her shoulder from the datapad. Standing just inside the door was Lance, and behind him, closing it behind them was Keith. He caught her stare for a moment, nodded in greeting, then narrowed his eyes on his PA.

“So that’s why you were at my apartment this morning?” he said, poking Lance in between his shoulder blades, making him jump.

Lance yelped. “You knew?”

“No, you just told me,” Keith smirked. Lance’s expression looked a little wonky.“I thought it was Illun when the hand-scan notification dropped.”

“I asked him,” Hunk said. “Since we’ll be covering the whole project I figured you’d want to include Pidge, you know, what with the coding stuff.”

“Coding?” Katie couldn’t help asking.

Hunk smiled, and Keith took a seat beside her, apparently no longer interested in the fact his PA had stolen his clothes for her. “Let’s get started,” he said instead, taking out his own pad.

Hunk nodded, and tapped a few buttons on the screen, bringing up a projection of the arm on the front cover. The room automatically darkened, and the projected arm rotated in the air within the circle around the desk. The recording drones - tiny orbs with presumably dark-light settings - also floated up into the air.

“Alright, Pidge, Nadia,” he began. “This is Project 57-B; it’s a project that was dropped from Lab A last August that Keith came across whilst combing the archives,” he nodded towards the man sitting beside her. “As you can see from the prototype blueprints, it’s a complex design,” he said, selecting the arm and using his hands to spread the different components out for a moment. “Lab A took on the project but,” he zoomed in on one section of the parts, and out of habit, Katie quickly started taking notes and audio recordings.

“It’s not complete,” she noted, biting her lip as she got a better look at the detailed engineering components. It was detailed. Incredibly detailed - the basic hardware included so much hardware it would take months to develop, never mind the nano-tech.

“No, it’s not,” Hunk sighed. “Most of the development information is locked up, and half of the major components haven’t even been trialed, including the micro cooling agents, computing chips, not to mention the synapse connections. All the hard work really.”

“Have you done a budget estimate yet?” Keith asked, his voice low. “What about a resource checklist?”

“I want to say three to five GAC, minimum, and that’s just prototyping and first stage development, it not even including testing,” Hunk grimaced. “As for resources, we are definitely going to need new 3D-Nano-Modelling software at some point. Not yet, but eventually, but I’ll get back to you on that.”

Keith nodded, tapping out more notes. 

“You said this was a project another lab took on - if it was bought from another company why isn’t it complete?” Pidge asked. “Even in the early stages, projects like this are normally further into development before they’re bought out.”

“Oh it wasn’t from lack of trying,” Hunk said. “It was a project taken over from GalTech, so we do have all of the development information. Only problem is, we can’t access it because the staff didn’t realise it was locked it up in a mountain of code.”

Hunk tapped a few buttons on his console, opening up the file’s data, and Katie couldn’t help leaning in shock as the bars and numbers rushed past the screen. “Founders fuck me…” she whispered. “…is that an evolving code matrix?”

“Oh good,” Hunk deflated. “You recognise it? Great! Probation period over. That’s just the first file. There are different ones for almost every spare kilobyte of data. So far I’ve counted seventeen.”

Seven…? Katie tried not to let her jaw hang open, but she didn’t manage it completely

“Congratulations,” Keith said, his tone dry. “This project is already too involved to start over, but we can’t proceed without the original notes, so getting into those, without destroying the original files in the attempt is the first priority, and that…”

His eyes landed on her again, and Katie couldn’t help sit a little straighter. The tone wasn’t so much a request, or an outline, but an expectation, and the tone of it came with the understanding that while Keith could permit patience, he did not permit failure; the anticipation was a subtle tingle across her skin as she waited for him to finish.

“…will be your job Miss Holt.”

* * *

Sorry for the later update! I was visiting family in England, and I've been kinda sick, but getting there.

Just a heads up that the next chapter may also be a little delayed as I'm trying to tackle an ongoing project I've been worming on for NaNoWriMo events. I'm at 67K so far, aiming to up that to 120K by the end of the month <strike>help me</strike>

Thank you, as always, to [@KDXArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAdrenaline/profile) for beta-ing this chapter <3 and to [@Aknazer](https://aknazer.tumblr.com/) for letting me bounce ideas!

Pidge's [Blazer](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1133363/Courreges/wool-blazer-), [Top](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1154430/adam_lippes/gathered-silk-charmeuse-top), [Skirt](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1133369/courreges/wool-twill-belted-mini-skirt), and [Boots](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1098370/givenchy/leather-knee-boots).


	9. Before I Go

The rest of the meeting was long, but Katie didn’t even notice how much time had passed until it was over. It was over five hours, and by the time six ‘o’ clock rolled around, she was exhausted from sitting, listening, and talking and tapping out notes (not to mention having a precursory look at the nightmare code she’d been tasked with decrypting).

There was so much to talk about; what resources would be available, how long she anticipated in breaking down the other security algorithms besides the code, when could they start setting full workdays to the projects? How long it would be before the project was officially brought to the board for full approval, and what they were going to refer to it as until then.

Lance suggested the name Voltron, with some very astute reasoning; ‘ _Everyone has a minor piece in the public shares in the company on the VTN 500 right? As long as they’re contracted? I mean, they’re infinitesimal compared to the ones the Executives hold, but everyone has them. Just use the full name instead of ‘500’ in conversations! Like spy codewords._ ’

Katie didn’t even know she _had_ a share (she really needed to give that contract another look through, in closer detail).

The need for secrecy regarding the project was… unusual, but she supposed given the recent problems that had been announced on the infostreams, it was probably better to keep any new projects under the radar for a while.

Still… It was odd for anyone in senior management to take such a personal interest in a project, let alone a CEO, yet Keith had stuck around for the entire meeting. It hadn’t been stated outright, but based off of how Hunk and Keith had been talking, it sounded like the funding wouldn’t be coming from the company at first, but Keith’s own money.

Which she guessed kind of _was_ company money, but she gathered that in this case, he meant personal funds. They made it sound  as though the other board members had no clue about the project, and that made her curious. She didn’t ask though – she was too caught up in examining the hell pit of code that had been handed off to her already.

Hunk hadn’t been too far off with his guess; there were twenty-one evolving matrixes for each section of the research document, rather than the seventeen he’d initially mentioned. Katie wouldn’t be surprised if–given this level of code–the individual pages had some sort of encryption too.

It was going to take months to decode, and she was already feeling the fizz of anticipation at the prospect. It was not the first time that she had come across an evolving matrix but it was the first time that she would have to try to decrypt one, and that would be challenge. Her dad had shown her how to make one, once, so she theoretically knew how to decode it, but such high level security didn’t exactly pop up on the radar of her dad’s business often.

By the time the meeting ended she was almost disappointed that she had to go home, because she wouldn’t even be able to work on it. It would be a few more days before she could get the get the company system linked to her home network like everyone else (if her crappy building even supported it), and she was reasonably certain copying the files and taking them with her would be less than ideal on her first day. She’d just have to fill out the rest of the forms and wait.

Packing up her things again, she was pulling on her coat over the suit when Keith–now finished speaking to Nadia about what chemical information and resources she wanted to warily list to start off with off the current progress–approached her.

“Miss Holt?” he asked, catching a turn of her head as she pulled on her rucksack. “Would you like a lift home? Nadia told me you took the monorail this morning, and the east district isn’t out of my way. I’m heading to West for the evening.”

Practically, it sounded reasonable. Katie couldn’t help but feel like she should proceed with caution though–her inbox was still overloaded with messages from the last time she followed the man–but the thought of sitting waiting for the monorail in the chill of early October was more unpleasant.

“As long as you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it,” she nodded. “Do you need to… do anything else? I can wait somewhere if you have something else to do first.”

“No, I’m having dinner with my uncle tonight, I just have to get there. If you’re ready we can leave now,” Keith said.

A few quick goodbyes to Hunk and Lance and Nadia later, she was following Keith once more up to the ground levels. Instead of heading to the main doors, they took a different route, into an office at the back of the building with glass fronting and doors overlooking the views of the Marmoran mountains, and the landscaped lake on the grounds.

Keith led her through the room, past the desk (where she briefly caught a copy of the same photographs of Keith, Hunk, and Lance as had been in the apartment, confirming her private suspicions that this was Keith’s on-site office), and out into the grounds along a gravel path towards a small car park, hidden by a row of strategically planted trees.

Iverson waved at them both, and the routine from before of him opening the doors returned.

And once again, Katie found herself at a loss for what to say as the car glided over the road. She gave her address to Iverson at his prompting, and wondered if she ought to break the silence.

“Did everything go well this morning?”

Katie jerked, not expecting Keith to be the one to initiate conversation; she paused, before nodding, realising he was asking how her first day had gone. “Good, Hunk explained everything pretty well. I’m just anxious to actually start doing something, especially on that code,” she grimaced. “The other night was one thing, but is it… really okay for me to keep borrowing your clothes?” she asked. “Is there at least somewhere I can send them once they’re dry cleaned?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I don’t really need them back, and they’ll be more useful for you right now. Keep them. I only have them for a couple of friends–” when he said friends, Katie couldn’t help but wonder if there was a ‘ _with benefits_ ’ silently tacked onto the end. “–or business partners who sometimes stay in town. Illun will replace them with something else.”

Katie wasn’t quite sure how to make a comeback to that. Keith clearly had a different idea of pragmatism than she did. That wasn’t to say the clothes weren’t gorgeous, or didn’t feel amazing on her skin, but they now that she actually had a work-based relationship with Keith, borrowing clothes that were so expensive didn’t sit right with her.

He wasn’t that weird, attractive rich guy she met at a bar mixing drinks anymore; he was the sole reason she would have a salary. He was her boss. More than Hunk, or the Samasama lab chief; Keith owned the entire company. One that was so intertwined with technological development an healthcare it was almost (but not quite) as big of a fixture as the government. There was a reason people were going crazy over a poorly-timed photograph.

She couldn’t afford to be indebted to him any more than she was just from the willingness to give her a chance at a lab application.

“I suppose I can keep hold of them until I can get something better than jeans myself, but if it’s all the same, I’d really rather send them back once cleaned…” She said, hoping she wasn’t making herself out to be ungrateful, or potentially ruining her stroke of luck already.

Keith didn’t respond for a moment, then nodded, before tapping something out into his datapad–did he ever put it down? Probably not. “If you want,” he shrugged. “When you’re ready, just have them sent up to Lance with one of the mail porters.”

Katie let out a breath. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m not trying to be ungrateful, but it just doesn’t feel right to keep them.”

“It’s no problem,” Keith said, and once again, they fell into companionable silence as the car sped across the roads through the Eastern District.

The buildings faded from the modern suburbs the closer they went into the city, and soon the large blocky flats and take-away fronts with fading signs and iron grill windows emerged from the haze of order she’d been amongst for the day. If she had expected any reaction to her address from Keith, he didn’t show anything beyond mild curiosity.

The car slowly pulled in against the pavement in front of her building, and to avoid walking out into the speeding traffic, Keith stepped out of the car so she could slide across. One of her neighbours was sitting on the steps, cig between his lips and two ‘V’d fingers, with a raised eyebrow as he watched them; Keith gave him a look that dared him to say something, and the guy stubbed the cancer-stick out on the steps before retreating inside.

“Charming,” he muttered.

“Xi’s alright. He’s a bit grumpy but he helped me fit some security locks in exchange for fixing his holoscreen connectivity so he could call his husband in Talwar,”  she replied. “Language barrier mostly. He’s better than Prorok at least, that guy’s just a slime bag.”

Keith looked a little perturbed at the mention of security locks and slime bags. “Anyway, I’d better go,” she floundered, unsure of why they were still lingering on the pavement, separated by the door of the car. “I have to finish filling in some of the forms from the datadump so I can get access to the systems, hopefully.” She still had a feeling the ancient network in her building might be fried trying to connect to Hawkinovate’s servers.

Keith nodded, drumming his fingers on the metal of the door; behind him, Iverson was already flicking through his phone in boredom (she understood that driving was his job, but she kinda felt bad for him–there was probably way too much downtime). Getting the impression that he needed to leave, she offered him a quick ‘ _see you later_ ’ and headed for the steps to the building door.

“Miss Holt, wait.” He called out, as she started up them, making her and pause and turn, waiting as he closed the car door and followed her up the steps. Pausing on one of the lower ones so he was looking her in the eye, he spoke up, “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up before, but I wanted to apologise.”

Her eyes drifted, watching as Keith chewed his lip a little, the pull of his teeth darkening the pink skin. Trying to concentrate, on his words, Katie settled her gaze back on his eyes only to start focusing on their startling purple colour instead. Did he have a Naxzelan background? She’d noticed it in the club, but in daylight the colour was coming through more, and it was very distinctive.

She could smell his cologne too. Not the cheap, five GAC bottles one of her exes used to wear that was too stinging on the nose to be any supplement to attraction. Keith’s was warm, less sharp, more like spice, the type of cologne that she could almost taste, and not find unpleasant.

No, definitley not unpleasant at all.

“F-For what?” she asked, shaking herself from her distraction to focus on the strange statement instead.

“The way I introduced myself,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, breaking the exchanged gaze for a moment, eyes roaming uncomfortably around at the street, before drifting back to her once the apparent nervousness faded. “Assuming I didn’t need to, or being pressed for time aren’t really excuses for being so rude,” he continued, his tone and expression almost abashed.

Katie stared for a moment, then smiled a little. “It’s fine,” she said. “I mean, I appreciate the apology, but looking back it was kind of obvious you weren’t middle management staff.” It really had been so obvious it was kind of painful to think about how oblivious she had been.

“If my dad had seen that business card, he’d probably have had me filling out tax reports for a month,” he laughed weakly, shaking his head, disagreement in his voice. “It’s not on you to know who people are, and I knew better than to expect it; or at least, I’m old enough that I should.”

She didn’t know what to say to that–except that he was right–and they both stared at each other. “Well... thank you,” she settled on, with a bit more sincerity this time.

Keith brightened, his shoulders visibly losing their tension. “Great,” he blurted. “I mean, you’re welcome. Uh... anyway, that was all I wanted to say,” he stepped backwards down from the steps, turning towards the car and reaching for the handle.

Opening the door, he looked over the top as he started to climb inside. “Have a good night, Miss Holt.”

The door closed, the car glided away along the road, and Katie stood on the front steps of the building, processing for a moment.

Whatever she had been expecting when he called out to her, it hadn’t been an apology for something she had forgotten about. The significance hung in the air around her as she watched the sleek car disappear, and held her there until it had disappeared around the corner, swallowed up by the rest of the traffic.

With nothing left to watch, she quickly made her way through the door, scanning her card key for access; after she’d finished those forms, maybe it was about time she did some research on her new boss.

* * *

“I know I’ve said this before, but I love Illun’s cooking,” Lance sighed, digging into the bowl of steamed eggs in the chair beside Keith. “Way better than Veronica’s.”

His uncle’s home was as welcoming as it usually was, and the pair of them were seated in front of the holoscreen, waiting for Kolivan to get back from the toilet before resuming the marathon. It had been a long time since Keith had had the chance to actually just sit down and talk to his uncle outside of work, and it was well overdue. Especially given he would be soon flying out to Olkaria.

The sound of Kolivan’s footsteps echoed along the hallway and moments later he returned. “Sorry for the wait,” he said, sinking into his chair. Keith waited until he was seated before handing him back his tray. “Alright, what part did we get to?”

“Kova just locked Meklavar in with Thunderstorm after dousing him in Komar magic,” Lance said. “Pike and Block are stuck in a locked room which is filling up with moat water. Koltarius is pulling some shady crap with Valayun, and Jiro woke up at Princess Orla’s castle.”

“Do you need us to go over it again?” Keith asked. “It’s been a while since we watched the last season.”

“Hm, yes, I think it was when you graduated,” his uncle agreed, picking up his spoon as Lance switched the screen off pause, humming along to the beats of the opening credits. “But I remember most of the details. I’m sure you can fill me in if need be.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Keith sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable explanations of the plot from the past two seasons that were bound to make them pause the stream.

“I am,” his uncle said, going for his tofu stew. “Can we skip these?”

“Dude, the opening is the best part,” Lance protested (he was the only person Keith had ever heard call his uncle ‘ _dude_ ’). “It’s an essential part of the experience! The tension, the suspense!”

Kolivan sighed, but made no more protest until a ping came through on Keith’s phone. “I thought you were turning that off?” he frowned.

“I am, I am,” Keith said quickly tapping out a reply and holding it up so Kolivan could see the shut down on the screen. “I just needed to hear back from Hunk about the what kind of 3D-Nano-Modelling he needs for the–” A choking noise interrupted him, and he raised an eyebrow at Lance, who was looking at something on his own planner. “–arm project, what happened?”

“Nothing, just uh…” Lance quickly stuffed his planner back in his pocket. “…a really inappropriate text from Kinkade that I shouldn’t have checked!” he said, before turning back to the holo-stream.

Keith eyed his friend suspiciously, and Kolivan raised an eyebrow as Lance’s humming turned into an outright sing along (‘ _inspiration is waiting, rise up, don’t think twiiiiiiiice!_ ’) “You found a coder, I assume?” he asked. “Who is it? Keaton? You said you were looking at hiring freelance.”

“Oh boy, here we go,” Lance grinned.

“No,” Keith said, thinking very carefully about his words. “Regris had too much on his plate, else he would have probably done it. That’s was why I was looking; it’s a woman from the East District. Katie Holt.”

“I don’t know that name,” Kolivan frowned. “Has she worked in the labs before? Or at Feyiv? Smythe?”

“No, she was on the scholarship for a few years, but had to switch to GarrittU. Interviewed for Feyiv, but they passed her up,” Keith shrugged. “Missed a trick with her if you ask me. I met her at the strip club the other night when I was working–”

“You were working at a strip club?” His uncle's jaw sagged. "What for?"

"That's what I said," Lance mumbled, taking a swig from his bottle of pale ale.

“Because I wanted to?” Keith blinked.

"Where did you learn to strip?” his uncle demanded incredulously (Lance started choking on his steamed eggs). “Is this something _else_ from college?” Kolivan asked, before slowly turning his head with a narrow eyed glare. "Lance..."

“Why are you–” Lance coughed, trying desperately to contain his mirth even as he tensed under the old man’s eye. “–don’t look at me like that!”

Keith blinked. “What? No, I’m not stripping–why would I?”

“Your tolerance has always been negligible,” his uncle said. “And your reasoning under the influence is definitely sub par to your normal standards, especially with Lance’s encouragement.”

Lance spluttered.“Hey! Why am I being lectured too?”

“So?” Keith raised an eyebrow as he took a bite of his stew. “What does that have to do with anything? You know I don’t drink like that now.”

“You just said you were working at the strip club," Kolivan reasoned impatiently. “Is this to do with that photograph?”

The drama stream was entirely forgotten in the background. The noise of the soundtrack from the surround sound echoed dimly through the strange turn in conversation, and Keith wanted to scream.

This always happened. Every. Single. Time. He lived in the hope that one day, they’d be able to watch a full episode of _Monsters & Mana _ from beginning to end without interruption. It was probably a fleeting one.

"Uh, I guess,” Keith offered, hoping he could turn the conversation away from the strip club, at the least. He knew his uncle was aware he’d been to them before now (mostly because his uncle had told him which ones to avoid, which was something he didn’t want to think too much about), but he _really_ didn't want to talk about it. "I was at the bar–”

“Tell me you weren’t bartending or mixing drinks, or something else ridiculous again,” His uncle groaned rubbing his temple with one hand. “Not only do you desecrate good vintages, you do not have the time for this sort of thing anymore, Keith.”

"I’m starting to feel like we have our wires crossed," Lance muttered.

"No," Keith shook his head. "I'm not a bartender at a strip club, or a stripper. I was _at_ the strip club, and I was sitting _at_ the bar, _working_. I was doing a test on the datapads from Lab A, and the bartender saw what I was working on,” he said, slower this time, and a bit more patiently. “She knew what neural connection ports were so I gave her the datapad to have a look, and she found a ton of bugs besides the shitty hardware,” he continued. “So, after Hunk looked it over, I went back the next night, and asked her if she’d take the recruitment tests. She did, slept in the spare room, and Hunk gave her the practicals the next day. Her record spoke for itself, so now she’s on the lab team.”

Keith waited for a moment as his uncle processed. “So you didn’t sleep with the bartender?” he asked finally, sounding surprised.

“No!” Keith tried not to let his frustration get the better of him. “I told you that when you started lecturing me about using protection!” Talking about this was arguably worse than the stripping. “My last control jab was a few months ago.”

“I thought you were lying because you were too embarrassed to talk your personal life,” Kolivan shrugged. “Though it does make a lot more sense,” Kolivan hummed, and Keith slumped, reaching for the glass of bourbon on his tray and sipping - _slowly_. “I'm not sure that's much better though. I think the internet rumours are preferable.”

Keith nearly choked on the whiskey. “Excuse me?” he gasped.

Kolivan looked over his glasses in that pointed, reproachful way like his mother once did. When he’d done something ridiculous and didn’t know what it was. “If you were at a strip club, then the holo-pads are not what should have held your interest, Keith.”

“Thank you!” Lance proclaimed, setting his bottle on his tray down with a thunk. "Seriously, who goes to a strip club and _works_?”

Keith was beginning to regret ever opening his mouth.

“Can we just watch the stream?”

* * *

 

[ **Search:** Keith Hawkins ]

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 **Keith Hawkins - Lexipad** **  
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Keith Hawkins (born 23rd October 2010) is a Naxzellan businessman, investor, philanthropist, and technology magnate. He is the second CEO, main shareholder, owner, and chairman of Hawkinovate Inc. His mother’s uncle, Kolivan Rolston was his primary guardian from 2024 to 2028 following car crash that killed…

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Philanthropy                                             Keith Hawkins (26) & Acxa Luttrell (22) at the 2036 Brodar Music Awards.

  
**Born:** Keith Hawkins; October 23, 2010...  
**Parent(s):** Heath Jason Hawkins | Krolia Gastayer...  
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](https://www.fgc.mrt/)30th May 2033

Hawkinovate back under family leadership; Keith Hawkins takes over as new CEO, promising a return to roots in the company address from Vermillion HQ…

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](https://www.scrutiniser.mrt/)17th October 2028

The 17-year-old heir to the Hawkins technology empire was hospitalised last night at Polluxia General Hospital following an appearance at a college party. It was shut down by police after friends discovered his drink had been spiked with the new craze drug, Q-Essence, and called emergency services. His great-uncle, Kolivan Rolston flew into the country from the Kraydah Conference following the emergency admittance. The incident occurs on the 4th anniversary of the crash that killed…

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Hawkinovate Inc CEO donates ₲350,000 to Naxzellan independence campaign. The generous donation comes after announcements that public surveys were 78% in favour of the MRT Government debate…

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**1:** Hawkins (23) and Luttrell (19) were snapped getting a bit too cozy at the 2034 GW Snick Gala in one of the closed off exhibits and escorted from the event for indecency. Luttrell referenced the experience that year in her BMA winning song ‘ _All Good Things._ ’

 **2:** A Tourist caught this snap on Bluve’s beaches. In the country for the HydroTech Seminars, Luttrell accompanied Hawkins to the event and the duration, with this encounter recorded after dark…

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Keith Hawkins ticks off 6th break-up of the year with Seok-Jin Jang, a week before the Hawkinovate Inc tech company passes into his ownership, along with the combined majority shares of his mother and father…

* * *

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Tofu stew, steamed eggs and drinks at Uncle Kolivan’s with **@Seranno-Lance** for a Monsters & Mana catch up - we’re still two seasons behind _#overtime is overrated_ _#no spoilers #M &M #S3 #Episode 6 #Thunderstorm makes a dynamic villain #I know he’s brainwashed #but tell me I’m wrong #NOT MEKLAVAR #Does Jiro even know what’s going on? #Pike Needs A Leash #SERIOUSLY Valayun? #Can somebody please stick a Knife in Koltarius? #Block is a package as always_

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95’  Vox at a new place **@Xanthuria_Official** with **@LanceSerrano** Bartenders aren’t  
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* * *

**Dad**

\--- 08th October 2037 23:11pm—

[ 2 missed calls ]

 

Hey

Sorry I didn’t hear the phone earlier,  
I was filling in some forms.

Took longer than I thought, else I’d have phoned.

Katie, is everything alright?

Great! I finally got a new job!

I’d call to let you know more,  
but I need to go to bed.

Just wanted to check in :)

A job? Honey, that’s fantastic news!  
Where is it?

Hawkinovate! Samasama Labs!

Wait, what?

The… tech company?

From the GalTech partnership?

yup! is there another one? XD

it’s crazy - kinda feels like i’ve drunk  
too much instead of actually happening

anyway, i need to sleep if i’m going to catch the  
monorail on time tomorrow morning.

6am wake ups suck balls  
Ugh

Alright, but please call us soon.  
Your mum is worried.

i’m okay, tell her to not worry

Alright, just be careful. Please.

i’m fine! i promise i’ll call soon

night dad x

Night honey x

* * *

The next morning was frightfully early, as expected, but rather than try to wallow in bed for a few moments of sleep, Katie darted up as quickly as she had the day before.

Her first day had gone well. She’d picked up some basics, and she could get on to figuring out the rest of the details, like which way to go to access certain data hard drives, and how to find things as needed.

Today, she had two full projects to sink her teeth into, and she’d rather just get on with them as soon as she possibly could; with that goal in mind, she rushed through her shower, scrambling with one of the lengthening treatments before jumping out and pulling on some the recently dry-cleaned suit set from the interview.

After double checking the section in the contract on salaries, and her bank account, Katie was satisfied that she could return it soon, so until then, she might as well take advantage of the generosity. Besides, hadn’t Keith said it was alright? Stinking rich as he was, expensive clothes were probably like pocket change to him as much as fifty-year bourbons were.

She’d finished the forms in the datadump, and had a little peek into the building systems already to see if she’d be able to access the company ones once permissions came through. She still wasn’t hopeful (she’d have to put in a few mods of her own most likely), but the state-based systems weren’t the complete disaster she’d expected.

After that, she’d typed Keith’s name into a search engine, just to see what popped up. So far, his attitudes had thrown her for six, and she didn’t really what to know what to make of him; his comprehension of expenditure was completely warped in comparison to her own, but he was polite, and just a tiny bit awkward that made him far more approachable than the man she’d crashed into during the interview (who thanks to the company website, she now knew to be the CFO, great work there Katie).

It was kind of odd, especially given results that had popped up; some of them weren’t bad, others more predictable. Hell, the ones about his partners were practically a requirement for gossip streams. It felt weird to be internet stalking him, but clearly, he was going to be around the labs a lot more than a regular CEO would be, so it made sense to try and figure him out.

Katie felt like she was–as her mother would put it–making her own excuses to satisfy her curiosity and make it sound like logic. And despite what her brother would tell her, it had _nothing_ to do with black hair or spicy cologne.

Shaking the thoughts of her strange boss from her head, she finished packing her bag, picked up her phone from the nightstand, and was looking around for a coat and her earbuds when there was a knock at the door.

Hoping with all hope that it wasn't her landlord coming to ask about this months rent already, she grabbed everything and opened the door.

“Good morning sunshine!”

Katie started, mouth falling open when she found not her landlord (who now that she thought about it, would never be up before seven), but a familiar, skinny framed-man in dark blue and wine purple–some sort of floral print?– silk, zip jacket suit and navy t-shirt. 

“Uh…”

Lance had the decency to look sheepish. “I know, what the hell am I doing here? I actually came to ask a favour. Regardless if you say yes or not, there’s a lift to the labs in it?” he offered. “And breakfast!” He held up a bag that looked like it contained blueberry muffins. “But seriously there’s no pressure. It’s a kind of crazy favour. Seriously, I’d just turn it down. ”

It was too early in the morning for this, but the muffins smelled good, and her stomach approved of the obvious bag of bribery. Lance eagerly shook it, like a zookeeper trying to entice the tigers with a slab of meat, and she caved, slowly taking the bag and peeking inside when she caught the smell of peanut butter..

“If it makes you feel any better it’s supposed to be my day off,” Lance added. “Turns out I have an emergency, and this was the only time I could think of before you got to the labs.”

Definitely peanut butter, she decided. Had lance stalked her social media or was that just chance? Closing the bag, Katie huffed, then looked up, eyeing Lance warily. “Exactly what kind of favour are we talking about here?”

* * *

 

Lance's suits from [this chapter](https://pin.it/umqqadp2uf5ry7) and [last chapter](https://pin.it/2zdt4dlhra3i3m).

I'm in the process of making a pintrest board for this. I have too many tabs. again. ~~also a monsters and mana plotline I didn't think I wanted to write but here we are.~~

Thanks again to KDXArt and Aknazer for their help!


	10. The Fire Line

The peanut butter muffins, while certainly delicious, were definitely not enough to cover the enormity of Lance’s ‘ _ favour, _ ’ in Katie’s humble opinion.

That said, he’d explained it first, and even advised her to turn it down. But she didn't, because… 

Well, she didn’t know why she hadn’t turned it down. Perhaps her perception of what was and what was not crazy had been altered with all the activity and surprises and shocks of the past week. Maybe she just didn't care. Or maybe her brother was right, and she just needed to be more careful about what she agreed to. 

Yeah, it was probably that. Matt was going to kill her if he found out about this before she went over to help him move in with Shiro and Curtis tomorrow.

Sighing, she pulled back the curtain, and raised an eyebrow at Lance, who sat outside on a couch, talking with the assistant who had opened up the small atelier boutique when they had arrived in a banter that only came with familiarity.

Speaking of, she was dreading the journey to the labs, whenever that would be–Lance was a terrible driver.

Looking up from the conversation when she cleared her throat, his beaming smile faltered. “Oh, you’re done! That one’s… Uh… Could you turn around?”

Rolling her eyes, Katie did as asked, turning on the plain heels she’d been given for the purposes of trying on with all the dresses. “I told you it would look ridiculous,” she told him, once she’d turned a full three-sixty.

The sequinned mini dress she was wearing was, in a word…  _ shiny _ . The cut and length didn’t really bother her so much, or even the transparent mesh used to hold the transparent cutouts in place. There were just so many sequins. One or two colours, or even a few in a similar range wouldn't have been so bad, but this particular number (the fourth dress in the hour they had been here) looked like refracted light had thrown up all over the colour wheel and had a sparkly, entitled baby.

“Ridiculous is a strong word, but yeah, also a no,” Lance winced. “What’s left?”

“Besides the ‘ _ only if it gets desperate _ ’ halter-neck and pipe trousers you grabbed at the start?” Katie asked. “Nothing. That was the last of the dresses you kept handing me.”

“We went through all of them already?” Lance choked. 

Katie nodded. “Won’t the trousers be okay?”

“Well, sort of, it meets the restaurant dress-code for evening wear, but this is a dinner party. You’d get away with it, but probably get some funny looks from the investors’ partners,” Lance explained. “A dress would be better. You really don’t like any of them?”  

Katie made a face. “They're okay I guess...” She admitted grudgingly. Just because she didn't feel comfortable in the clothes didn’t mean they looked bad on the mannequins; hell, half of it she’d thought looked great until she tried it on.

“Be honest, no-one’s going to be offended. They’re just clothes, Pidge,” Lance said encouragingly.

Lance’s expression was a mix of hopeful and earnest, along with the tinge of separation fraying the corner of his eyes; he’d gone out of his way to make this farce as comfortable as it could possibly be, and the calm in his voice was reassuring. So, Katie bit her lip, trying to think of the best way to describe her opinions of all the things Lance had handed through the curtain to her.

“I thought the bodysuit was ok, when I put it on…” she said hesitantly. “...then I looked in the mirror and realised I looked like a walking salmon,” she sighed. 

“And?” Lance prompted.

“And the black one was nice,” she continued, wondering if the assistant was going to take all her comments back to whoever had designed the clothes. She really hoped not, because they probably suited some people - just not her sense of style or frame. “It wasn’t too long, and it’s easy to mix with stuff…”

“But?” Lance prodded again.

“But I don’t understand what the drapery was for? It’d just get dirty. Not to mention if there’s going to be alcohol and heels involved with this, it's a bad idea–definitely a trip hazard,” she sighed with a bit more confidence. “And that stupid cape dress thing just made me look like an imp, not to mention it needs a warning for glitter herpes.”

The assistant wasn't saying anything, but her face looked like she was either choking on hidden laughter, or biting back an angry tongue. It was hard to tell which. Lance, in comparison just laughed.

“You can’t get glitter herpes from lamé, but I thought the same, it did shrink you,” he said. “Okay, so what I’m getting from this is that you aren’t comfortable with flamboyant or too-complicated styles. That about right?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, but I just… is there something cleaner? Simpler? If I’m going to sit through a three-course-meal with people I don’t know and conversations I’m never going to understand, I need something comfortable, right?”

“Actually, the investors like hearing shop talk, so it might not be too bad… though it's probably more like a five or six course to be honest,” Lance cringed sheepishly–Katie had to suppress a splutter of horror;  _ Five courses? _ “But yeah, that’s what we’re going for. I’m not going to force you into something you’ll hate and never wear again…” Katie presumed Lance was assuming she’d have any chance to appropriately wear anything that came out of this shop again. “…Though I probably should have just asked sooner, my bad!” he garbled, quickly but sincerely. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes!” The reply was far too quick, and Lance seemed to notice before she had the chance to raise an eyebrow at him. “No, sorry,” he corrected. “I’m panicking because the usual plan fell around my ears.” 

That was one way of putting it, but while Lance had told her the details of why Keith’s usual go-to date couldn't make it to whatever farce this dinner was, Katie was trying very hard not to think about the whole thing until she had to. She still had to get through work before she could afford to do that.

“So… do you want me to look around myself?” she asked.

Lance looked like he was about to say something when his phone started buzzing violently in his hand. “Sorry, I need to talk to my sub, but sure, go wild!” Lance said, giving her a thumbs up and a grin as he tapped on his earpiece. “Hey, I take it you got the copy of the email–Oh wow, okay, Ven, honey, calm down…”

As Lance distracted himself placating whoever was covering for him in his absence, Katie headed out into the shopfront, looking around at the mannequins and clean rails and hangers. It had less than half of what the usual places she shopped in had in clothing, but it all seemed to much together much more easily. It was easy to see that all the clothes had been designed with a matching or related theme in mind.

It also made ruling out the things that didn't catch her eye and the things she wasn't too fond of much easier. Katie had never followed fashion or style religiously, but she knew how to dress herself well when the occasion called, and knew what suited her.

She quickly ruled out all the floor length gowns, and turn her attention to some of the mini-dresses hanging on a nearby rack, a shelf on the frame lined with shoe and handbag suggestions. After a few moments of delicate rummaging–that was sliding the six or seven dresses on the whole rack slowly back and forth–she settled on a few that looked promising.

One was a pure white halter-neck with smooth cut and crossover spaghetti straps, another was a strapless mix of tartan and belts, something made from what felt like suede and metallic gold pleather, a black velvet plunging dress with a crystalline halter-neck, and finally, a white and lemony-green coloured dress in smooth fabric.

Trying to arrange them so that Lance could see she held them up, managing to catch his attention mid-call.

“Ven, everything’s fine, just get Keith through the day without any shareholder murders–” he said, before pointing at the tartan one with a finger drawn across his neck and a shaking head. “–and make sure he eats something, even if it's just a protein bar.”

The assistant fished the tartan one off of her arm, returning it to its place as Lance squinted at the other dresses. He made and ‘ _ unsure _ ’ waving hand motion at the velvet one, and that one got taken back by the assistant, too. Left with three choices, Katie returned to the changing cubicle (which was a small room all of its own, with full length mirrors and a square blue ottoman).

“I know you’ve got no time, the shareholders meeting is going to be a bitch, that’s why I’m saying you have to make the Taujeerian meeting go over lunch, and let me deal with the dinner…” Katie heard Lance pause as the privacy screen zapped back into place at the touch of a button.“…See, now that just sounds like you don’t trust me.” 

Carefully changing out of the sequinned monstrosity, she slipped on the white dress first, then instantly took it off. It was too white, and a bit too… childish, almost. Katie wasn't sure what Lance was looking for, but she was certain that wasn't it. Besides, it would too easy to stain, and she had no idea what kind food she’d be eating at this shindig. Knowing her luck, it’d probably be spaghetti bolognese.

Pulling it off, she turned to her second. It was the same fabric as the white, smoother feeling and more comfortable than the sequinned thing. Less tight and confining, and the ruffled hem and flounces gave it the appearance of a two-tone effect. It seemed reasonable enough that she opened up the door again for Lance’s final judgement. 

“…I  _ know _ it’s my day off, and I would love to be going through the final designs for packaging with the girls in the medical labs right now, but I also know you have no time between the shareholders meeting and the reps to deal with this kind of problem. This is my blood okay? I think I can arrange a last minute–”

Lance whirled as the privacy screen beeped in withdrawal and stared of a moment; his face was blank and Katie could hear the caller’s muffled voice as his face broke into utter glee.

“–Yes!” he cried victoriously, pointing in her direction. “Sorry, I have go Ven’tar, I‘ll call after I’ve spoken to Iverson; don't worry about tonight - focus on the meeting, you’ve got this, I swear. Just make sure to feed our child! Bye babe!”

Turning off the earpiece, Lance began circling her like a vulture eyeing a carcass, only in this case, Katie was the skeleton, and the carcass was the smooth flouncy fabric covering her, examining the carefully cut ruffle and colours, turning her around to see the back. “This is great! All you need is some better shoes and a jacket, then we can get you to the labs with time to spare!” he crowed. “Hepta, can you ring this up with some of those suede heels and the jacket from the window? And one of the Moxillous clutches?”

_ Moxillous?  _ The name shot through her brain, and Katie remembered just what kind of clothing boutique she was standing in, or rather, the level of price tag that would be attached to anything purchased from it.

“I don’t need a handbag or anything!” she protested. “This is already way too much money! Can’t I just wear something like the suit jacket from yesterday?” she asked.

Despite the question, Katie already knowing she being way too hopeful. She wouldn’t have dreamed of going on a night-out in college with Romelle and the other girls from GalTech with the levels of frugality she was currently trying to apply to what sounded suspiciously like high level business politics.

“Pidge, you’re already wearing Slav&Sven - let me worry about the money,” Lance said, examining a pair of heels that the assistant had brought over. “Oh, yes, these! Try these on!” 

Katie took the shoes at arms length, examining them like a murder weapon instead of a pair of shoes. The same brand that had just given her a heart attack was printed on the sole, and Lance  _ still _ wanted her to put them on her feet?

“Call it compensation - perfect!” Lance beamed as the assistant returned with a ribbed white clutch, and a blazer-style jacket.  “This has a matching pair of trousers right? Can you get her a pair of those too? And a black shirt, then ring everything up for me.”

“What? No!” Katie looked up from the sandal straps in horror. “Lance! I don’t need any–”

“–this will give you a work outfit and make this stuff fully re-wearable,” the brunette man said stubbornly, bribing her sense of practicality. “Pidge, you have saved me the task of navigating through Keith’s minefield of exes for someone who’d cause more trouble than this evening is worth, and I’m going to be paying you back for that until the end of time; it's really nothing.”

Somehow, Katie didn’t doubt him at all.

* * *

 

“You have that meeting with Mr. Gal to get an update on the work on the hydro work from the Uisgemul Lab in twenty minutes,” Lance’s secondary–a sandy haired woman named Ven’tar–said as Keith opened his office door. “And after that is a visit from the Taujeerian representative; I’ve sent the notes of the discussions and the tour of the labs to see the progress on the items that are ready for full production and shipment.”

Reaching the desk, Keith opened his personal system to check the data-drops and sure enough, there were the outlines for each of the two meetings. Sometimes he wondered if he should give her a promotion. Lance was a good organiser, and brilliant at managing the flood of phone calls and appointments so that Keith had a semblance of work/personal life balance, but Ven’tar always proved herself just as capable whenever Lance took his days off or holidays. And she finished her paperwork on time.

“Thanks Ven’tar,” he nodded. “I’m going to be in a call with Samasama till then, so if you could divert any calls that would be great. Did you take your break during the meeting?”

The woman nodded. “I got some soup and a sandwich sent up from the café; do you want me to double check your arrangements for the Investor’s dinner tonight?” 

“Iverson should know already, and I haven’t heard anything from Acxa about it, so I figure it’ll be the same as usual, but if you could double check I’d appreciate it,” Keith nodded after a pause for thought.

Ven’tar nodded and as he sat down and started a holocall through to Lab D,  she headed for the door, tapping her earpiece–‘ _ Hawkinovate Inc Vermillion, Ven’tar Bishop, speaking; you've reached the office of Keith Hawkins. How can I be of- Oh, it’s just you. Did you get everything sorted, or do I need to call someone to… _ ’–before the door slid closed behind her.

Once she had left, Keith deflated, slumping back in his chair as he waited for the call to go through. Yet another board meeting and yet another headache. Pressing a thumb against the lock on the desk drawer, he reached in for a couple of painkillers, swallowing them dry. The bitter taste was unpleasant, but he didn’t really want to bother going over to the water cooler.

‘ _ Hey, what’s up? _ ’

Hunk’s face was bright and cheerfully energetic when it appeared on the holoscreen; he had what looked like a bowl of instant noodles in his hand, chopsticks in the other, and was still surrounded by screens; they looked like the hydraulic diagrams for mobile water carriers and terrain stabilisers he’d developed for the Taujeerians.

“Not a lot, is the lab empty?” Keith asked. This was usually when Rizavi and the other staff in the labs took their lunch-break break.

‘ _ Yup, all quiet here, I stayed back to do the paperwork like usual, _ ’ Hunk nodded, moving away from the camera and panning it around the empty room. ‘ _ Pidge and Nadia went up to the canteen about 20 minutes ago–I gave them extra time.’  _ Hunk wore a frown of his own. ‘ _ It’s been a weird morning–Nadia’s out of sorts because she had to go into the hospital to check on her mum last night, then Pidge come in all rushed like she was going to be late when she was thirty minutes early? She looked spooked or something.’  _ He shook his head. ‘ _ Anyway, that’s been my morning; what’s happening upstairs? Bad meeting? _ ’ he asked.

“Not so much bad as just… complicated,” Keith sighed.  “Summer’s project was unanimously voted into your care.”

‘ _ Yeah I saw the transfer files… wait,  _ unanimously? _ Even Tomita agreed? _ ’

“He’s the CFO Hunk; he can’t really try to claim numbers lie, and Summer’s are  _ not _ good,” Keith shrugged. “But he didn’t really back down gently.”

‘ _ Meaning? _ ’

“The board found out I hired Miss Holt. Or rather, Tomita blurted it out. He waited till the end and the whole fucking room got involved…”

* * *

“…Would it be possible to discuss this later?” Macidus asked, tapping a control on his datapad and closing his report from the overhead projector. “Things are going well, but we’ll probably be ready for final evaluations from the consultants at BAKU Corp at the end of the month, so plans need to be made for a tentative opening and resulting press conferences.”

“That’s fine. I need to come down and look at the site again before then too,” Keith grunted, flicking through some pictures of the new laboratories currently under construction. “I think I can do that next wednesday… Ven’tar?”

Seated on her on chair just back from his, the woman nodded. “I can rearrange the meetings next week to get that in,” she said. “And November would work for a pre-launch meet up and conference. I can make regular appointments starting today to go over plans.”

“Lowes? Gal? That work for you?” Keith asked, his eyes flicking mostly at Macidus. He’d never had a much better working relationship with him than he had with Zarkon, but with crunch time coming over at Uisgemul, Keith was hoping things would go more smoothly for once.

“If it’s after one then I think I can manage,” the old man said, checking his own schedule on a holoscreen. “Lowes?”

“I’ll work around whatever you two come up with,” Ladnok said confidently.

“Half one then,” Keith nodded; behind him Ven’tar started changing the information stored on her datapad to match the new plans. “Okay, next is Samasama. The representative is coming today, so if there’s anything good from the reports to tell…” he said, rubbing his forehead to try and will away the growing tension at the thought of what this was going to bring before bringing up Ulaz’s reports. “…then we want to make that the focus.”

“So far the reports look good to me; most of the Labs are either on track or have already completed their projects. I think the lower ones are straggling, but nowhere near as much as Lab A is,” Sampson said, already skimming through the files, before grimacing. “Should we just get this out of the way?” he asked, sounding tired.

There was a reluctant chorus of murmurs throughout the room; if there was one thing they were all agreed on, it was that facing the failure for sake of damage control–that had come out of a supposed leading laboratory–on the eve of a Taujeerian inspection was not ideal.

“Alright, what’s the bad news?” Antok asked, opening up a new screen.

“Rabe-Summer’s team can’t pull together anything from the remaining hardware that meets the brief,” Ranveig said. “He claims they don’t have enough time,” he frowned. “Though I was under the impression that this was just supposed to be a change in software?”

“It is,” Keith said.

“Then either his notes are mistyped, or he has no idea what he’s doing and is just ignoring the brief completely now,” Sampson declared, swiping away the file in clear disgust. “He keeps rambling on about the hardware not supporting the changes that are needed to meet the brief standards, so I have a feeling it’s that.”

“What are the comparisons for the original idea in comparison to the other labs?” Bogh asked, frowning at his screen. “What I mean is, were they all finalised around the same timeframe?”

“The development stage lasted two weeks before,” Keith mused. “It’s been eight days. When you put that against how much time is left, it’s more time than was originally given… and we still have nothing?”

“They were all finished around the same time, D, B, F, E, and C for the first five,” Ranveig said. “But… essentially,” he grunted. “I think we should just accept the fact that Lab A’s project is a lost cause, and be grateful we managed to at least catch it before it went into production.”

“How the fuck did we end up with this mess?” Keith groaned to himself, before looking back up to the data Ranveig was highlighting on the screens, the qualifications and previous employment records of the staff. “How is it that our supposed best team of scientists couldn’t come up with something better than a modded holopad?” 

Nobody had an answer. 

“There needs to be an investigation here somewhere, but let’s talk about that next week, Antok, can you put that down for the agenda–” Antok waved a hand, already making up the minutes and meeting notes. “–thanks. Alright, we’ve established that Lab A has jack shit; can we still save this somehow?” 

“If Rabe-Summer is struggling I think it’s best to hand the project off to Lab D,” Lowes said brushing a lock of hair back off her shoulder as she examined her datapad, flicking through the notes. “Their team and individual pieces are already completed, and they had the central brief for the entire project; right now they’re just working on personal and private development plans.”

“I agree,” Torseth mused. “Honestly, I think it might be time to re-assess the lab arrangements. Lab A’s quality and returns have steadily been drifting downhill for a few years now, looking at this data,” he frowned, scratching the quiff that ran from his side-shaved head into a thick ponytail. “Summer should never have been given any input into this project in the first place, let alone leadership on it. Our private investments have be supported by the other labs for years now.”

Despite the headache in discussion, Keith honestly felt like this was going well, or wanted to. For a rare moment, it felt that the ones who normally followed Zarkon’s lead were actually using their heads the way they were supposed to, and finally seeing where their losses were stemming from.

He listened as the other’s discussed, countered, low-key argued, and agreed. Antok, Bogh, and Ladnok all seemed to be on the same wavelength, and Macidus and Ranveig were clearly wearing their reasonable heads too. The only one who hadn’t weighed in at all was Zarkon, and that made his insides twitch unpleasantly.

“…let’s vote on this then,” he said, once the discussions seemed to have tempered into something resembling universal agreement. “All in favour of transferring Lab A’s project to Lab D?”

There was an unanimous show of hands, even before he’d thrown in his. Keith did his best not to let the surprise show on his face, before adding his own hand up into the mix. Unversal agreement was rare on the board, and while he hoped he could take advantage of it, the main question was, how long was it going to last? 

“Alright, Ven’tar, send the notifications down to Mr. Galuvao and Mr. Rabe-Summer as soon as you get the chance; I’ll draw up the project transfer authorisations now,” Keith said, opening a keypad and looking for the files he wanted. “If that’s the bad news, what’s the good news Sampson?”

“Lab B have had their carbon fibre supply problem solved, so they should be back up to speed in a few days, and I believe Lab E had their BLIP-Tech visors approved for alpha testing the day before yesterday. The other labs focusing on the project have already submitted theirs to alpha testing. ”

“Is Lab B’s tech ready for alpha testing once their supply needs are met?” Keith asked. “If needed we can maybe borrow some from one of the other labs in the meantime. Any new projects should only be in planning, so leftovers might be floating around.”

“It should be, but Thace’s notes indicate that the delivery is due anytime today or tomorrow, so they should be fine without raiding the other lab supplies. Lab E’s alpha tests are tomorrow afternoon. Following the recent problems, do you want to be there during the testing stage?”

Keith paused in the middle of his typing, raising an eyebrow curiously at Ven’tar, who was still tapping away on her datapad, a furrow in her brow–‘ _ It will be tight, but I think you can manage it if we make the lab tour for the reps include the alpha tests _ ’–before nodding. 

“That’s everything regarding the Taujeerian contract then,” Sampson said. “The rest is just progress reports from the construction warehouses, and everyone should have a copy of those. There’s not much we can really do with that until everything is ready for shipment.” 

Keith nodded, looking over the report Ranveig had just mentioned, before closing his eyes and taking a preparatory breath. “Tomita, what are the finances like this week?” he asked, almost cringing as he did.

Zarkon’s datapad screen opened in a new window on Keith’s interface, and he scanned his eyes over the graphs and numbers of each individual lab.

“Good so far,” the older man said, slowly moving through several different graphs. “None of the labs have gone over the budgets outlined at the start of the month, and they’re all well under their annual funding quotas, I’d even go far enough to propose an increase to some of them,” he added.

“That’ll be good news for Ulaz, with the lull between contracts, the scientist will be harassing him for any cash they can get for personal projects,” Keith mused. Not to mention it came when private projects were starting in the labs, and official funding would be needed for the arm to begin any work in proper. Group projects in labs were common, so it was a perfect way to get valid funding. “Discrepancies and losses?”

“We’ve had some poor returns in Lab A’s consumer tech recently, its still low, but I’m keeping an eye on it. If it gets any higher, I’ll bring it up at next week’s meeting,” he grumbled. “Beides that the only change is some of the payroll requirements in Lab D, but given you approved that, I assume it is expected.”

Macidus blinked. “Lab D has new staff?”

Keith schooled his face to calm, fighting back the urge to throw his datapad at Zarkon’s head. He knew this meeting was going too well.

“Who is it?” Bogh asked. “Did we finally convince Mr. Keaton to come on board?”

Keith felt his hope for a peaceful meeting fading as, before he could say anything, Tomita opened up Katie’s personnel file, displaying her picture on the interfaces for everyone to see plain as day. Beside him, Ven’tar stiffened, and Keith felt his shoulders start to tense with the increasing recognition on the faces of the other board members.

“A Miss… Katie Holt, I believe?” Zarkon said.

Gazes flickered back and forth between the picture on their interfaces, and at Keith, either in confusion or with surprised expressions; the obvious question hung in the air, and the hesitance to ask was already giving him a migraine. The only noise came from a few pings of high priority notifications on his own interface, and they could probably be heard outside the room for the silence that had taken root inside it.

“The stripper?” Macidus almost choked; his words broke the tension. “You hired the stripper?!”

The silence lasted for a few more moments, and then the others began to follow in their dismay or surprise–Bogh just outright laughed–before several people began shouting at one. Mostly Sampson and Gal, with Antok arguing back at them.

“Is this correct Duvall? Did you really approve this?” Macidus demanded hotly. “You must be out of your mind!”

“The approval is out of my hands and you know it Gal,” Antok shot back. “I just process the paperwork for senior staff; you know full well that the decision is up to the lab head, Ulaz and the lab’s executive rep.”

Tomita was still quiet, but had a satisfied expression as everyone argued, and Keith wanted to curse the air blue; he really should have known better than to assume Zarkon would let their argument the week before go without retribution, and this was it. Now he’d have to reason with the others in the time that they should be spending on more important discussions. 

“No but you have had a close personal relationship with the Hawkins family for many years now Duvall–for all the difference a name makes, you might as well be one yourself–so I find it unusual that you’re so surprised,” Ranveig added.

“Mr. Hawkins?”

Ladnok was the first to speak to him directly, but she was also the most sensible in the lot besides Antok and Bogh. Comparatively, Keith had few problems with her unless it was in a direct disagreement on policies, and most of them had been easily resolved. He kind of liked her, so when she called out from across the left of the table, he tried to ignore the tantrum being thrown on the right.

“Watch it Sampson,” Antok snarled; Ranveig, to his credit realised his folly and tilted his head in apology. “I had no hand in the decision. Mr. Galuvao was satisfied with her record and she passed inspections; there was nothing to ask.”

“Yes?” he asked, wondering how long he needed to wait before they all cooled down; experience had taught him trying to intervene when they were like this only made things worse.

“It doesn’t matter who made the decision!” Macidus crowed. “What kind of image is this supposed to-”

“While the children in the room are getting excited by the implied sexual element in whatever relationship you have with this woman–something which is completely irrelevant to the matter, frankly–I’m going to assume from your pinched expression and the employee data which is included in this file and unfortunately being completely ignored, that she is not, in fact, a stripper?”

The conversation somehow managed to catch the ears of the others. Next to her Bogh started coughing, failing miserably in hiding his newest bought of laughter at the incredulous expressions on Gal and Sampson’s faces as they realised they had just suitably backhanded themselves.

“Bartender, and no, not really. Computing and nanotech engineer,” Keith said, hoping he could shut this down in the momentary calm before it became a tangent again. “One of GarrittU’s graduates from this past summer. Mr. Galuvao sent his hire request through last week; since I’d already bumped into her, I didn’t think there would be much issue in letting her take the employability tests. Her record speaks for itself.”

“Her academic record is irrelevant!” Zarkon snapped. “If we go about hiring anybody we could cause irreparable damage to the company image. For the most part, the investors and public sphere have been happy to ignore your past escapades!” he spat, looking like he wanted to climb along the table and tear Keith’s gullet out. “If we want to keep it that way we have to be careful about who we hire! She could be brilliant, maybe, but she could also be incompetent! It may seem harsh, but I am trying to protect this company from a poor investment!” 

The outburst stunned the room and Keith tried to keep his boiling temper to himself as the man’s scathing words about  _ ‘image’,  _ and belittling, insulting tone struck his nerves with cold accuracy.

Keith wasn’t a genius by any stretch of the imagination; he’d earned his business degree, and managed to scrape a minor in nanotech with hard work, tears of frustration, and a couple of emotional breakdowns on the impossibility of trying to fast-track two degrees, much like anyone else in would have. 

Yes, he’s probably messed about a little bit too much, but he had worked hard, and got the qualifications he felt he would need to support his family’s legacy the best way he could. It had still taken him years of hard work, the same as it would have for anyone else. 

The only reason he had the position as CEO was because he’d inherited his mother and father’s shares alongside company ownership. Keith knew it rubbed Tomita the complete wrong way, but that at least, Keith understood; the man wasn’t the only one who believed he was an entitled brat who hadn’t earned his position (or the respect that usually came with it).

Zarkon would probably have been happier if he’d fucked off on a Yacht in Bluve and left them to it; frankly, he could have. He didn’t need the money (he wouldn’t need to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to) but he had wanted to work at his father’s company before his parents had died, and that had never changed.

So, he’d worked hard, and learned what he needed to to try and prepare himself. He’d done his internship under Kolivan and Sampson. He’d spent hundred of hours studying the stock markets, and gone through copies of past project databases so he was up to date as he could be when he finally turned twenty-two.

Only, he’d discovered that while a business understanding was important in the offices, and his nanotech degree helped out during lab visits, the thing that prevailed the most in the weekly executive and shareholder meetings was common sense. 

Which was why, despite not being the same kind of genius that Hunk was, Keith was fairly certain that Tomita was making none whatsoever. He was agitated, like he had been when he tried to stop the application in the first place, and Keith knew a chance when he saw one.

“You mean like you?”

Zarkon, and several of the other board members blinked in surprise. “What?” the man asked, sounding dumbfounded from the question.

“Well, you seem so concerned with how often I’m getting my dick wet that I just assumed your anxiety over Miss Holt’s employment is based off your own previously poor judgement,” Keith began. “You were the one who hired Mr. Rabe-Summer, after all; it was just before I graduated. You introduced him to me while I was doing my internship,” he pointed out.

Tomita’s face was paling, and more than one set of eyes had snapped in his direction; the tension in the room was up again, and this time instead of being pointed at Keith, all the eyes were watching Zarkon, and rapid turnaround from his criticism, the visage of the man who found himself in a hole he hadn’t realised he’d dug with his own hands.

“You had no problems hiring him, and it wasn’t until the problems in his contribution to the Taujeerian contract came to light that you even began to pay attention to the numbers  _ I’d _ shown you when I first took over, numbers you’d dismissed as ‘ _ nervous overthinking _ ’ on my part,” Keith said. 

“I remember that meeting,” Bogh mused. “You were kind of a tool about it, Tomita,” he added, leaning back in his chair as Zarkon’s eyes narrowed despite his clear caution.

“Yet when I agree to hire a woman who has superior qualifications, you become overly concerned with my sex life and whether I’m basing decisions on how did you put it…” Keith paused. “That was it, ‘ _ how good of a fuck _ ’ she was,” He continued. “As such, I can only assume your concern is because of your own poor judgement of Mr. Summer. So, I ask again; is your concern the voice of experience?”

Keith raised an eyebrow, and Tomita’s face–which had been growing steadily more thunderous–was frozen, like a breeze had blown through the meeting room and caused it to get stuck in perpetual horror and incredulity. His glower and anger were palpable even at the other end of the table, and the silence that had descended on the room was chilly as the man reluctantly shook his head.

“However, since my sex life is obviously so much of an issue, just to reassure anyone nervous about my apparent lack of impartiality on this matter, I propose this about this; when we swap Lab A’s project to Lab D, instead of making it a group effort, we let Miss Holt take it on. She and Mr. Summer are both postgraduates; admittedly Summer has more work experience, but considering she was the one who found the gaps and bugs in the coding for Mr. Summer’s datapads in the first place, I’m sure the lack of experience won’t be an issue for her.”

Bogh, who had remained silent besides his laughing spells for the most part was the first to catch the last point, and he smirked across the table at Zarkon, clearly enjoying the CFO’s discomfort before looking up to Keith. “I did wonder how you came across those bugs–you’re smart, but you’re not really software savvy.”

“My father always said it was important to outsource talent, regardless of where you found it; I’m just trying to follow his example,” Keith shrugged, leaning back in his seat, spinning a little as he eyed each of the shareholders in turn. “Well?”

“I’m happy with that,” Sampson shrugged. “Gal? Duvall?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Antok said, quickly typing out a string of minutes into his holoscreen; Lance was going to have the time of his life going back through all the paperwork for this next week. Keith could heard the cackles and bad jokes already.

“I’m satisfied,” Macidus nodded.

“Torseth? Lowes?” Keith asked.

“No problems with me, just as long as someone besides Summer does  _ something _ with it, I don’t care who it is,” Bogh said, stretching his arms over his heads and looking more relaxed than anyone else in the room. He too was tolerable; he would back up his lab teams and was reasonable during disagreements.

“I trust Mr. Galuvao’s judgement, and I’m always happy to see more female talent here,” Ladnok. “He’s never indulged any flights of fancy, and frankly if you were trying to hire someone for convenience, so to speak, I imagine you would be smart enough to have Miss Holt better placed somewhere closer to your office, instead of an hour’s drive away; in short, I approve.”

Bogh and Torseth were quickly rising in esteem, and with their approval, Keith turned his eyes to the last member of the board, who had slumped in his seat, temporarily caged once again.

“Tomita?”

“Fine,” the man grumbled.

“Put a note into the minutes Antok–” Keith nodded. “–Miss Holt will take over Lab A’s project for the Taujeerian contract following its transfer to Lab D. Now, before we move on, does anybody  _ else _ have any comments on my sex life to get off their chest?” 

The room was silent; Antok caught his eye, a discreet smile playing on the corner of his lips, and the twinkle of amusement still lingered on the expression of Lowes and Torseth. Even Sampson looked satisfied for once.

“Good; now that this nonsense is over with, let’s get to the Lab C’s military investment problems. Lowes, and our private investors work in Lab F?”

The woman stood up, staring up her presentation with her datapad on a large holoscreen at the end of the table. “I’ve been working closely with my Team in Lab C for the work arounds to the contracts that we still have left,” she said opening up some video feeds, complete with annotations. “And I think we came up with some good solutions that will satisfy the MR-AF…”

Keith fixed his attention on her words, absorbing the information and trying to put the interruption to the back of his mind as tomorrow’s concern; he knew that he’d contained Zarkon for now, but he couldn’t help but think that it was by no means the end of his fixation.

* * *

The explanation ended, and Hunk’s face looked a little pale. ‘ _ That sounds like it went… well? _ ’ he guessed. ‘ _ But also not; you know he’s going to get you back for that, right? _ ’

“I know, but it was worth it,” Keith sighed. “If he’s focused on his lab, and me making a mockery of the company, he’s not going to pay attention to you guys. If tolerating him means you can work in peace, I’ll relish the headache when I get see his face at the end of it.”

‘ _ Lance continues to be a terrible influence on you, _ ’ Hunk muttered. 

Keith frowned. “What’s that supposed to–” he paused as one of the holoscreen windows on the top left corner of his interfaces lit up with a polite ‘ _ ping _ ’, then sighed in disappointment. “–Sorry Hunk, I need to go talk to Gal about what’s going on at Uisgemul,” he said.

‘ _ No worries. Pidge and Nadia will be back soon. Let me know how it goes with Gal, okay? I get worried about you when Lance isn’t around to make you eat and, you know, survive. _ ’

“You make me sound incompetent,” Keith scoffed, brows furrowing and an offended look at the holoscreen. “I might see you when we give the Taujeerian reps the lab tours later.”

‘ _Not incompetent,’_ Hunk clarified with a weary smile. _“Just too obsessed with your job;_ _see you later._ ’

Shutting down the interface after Hunk had disconnected, Keith let himself sink into the plush, comfortable leather of the chair for a moment; taking a breath to clear his head, sliding in the silk of his suit against the upholstering. He hoped beyond hope that the investors dinner tonight was better than the day was shaping up to be.

Hopefully Acxa wasn’t in the mood for distractions of her own; much as he enjoyed those, he didn't think he’d have the energy later.

Letting out a breath, he forced himself out of the chair, and out into the reception. There was a waiting area for guests, and a few desks for the assistants working under Ven’tar and Lance, who flitted back and forth like worker bees under the will of two angry queens. Standing at her interface, Ven’tar certainly looked like one as he headed towards her.

“– _ what?  _ Why not? That makes no sense! Of course he needs to… alright,  _ alright! _ Have it your way, but I’m not taking any blame if you get into trouble! That meeting was a shit storm without this too! You can’t just spring things like this on me without–” she frowned deeply, pausing her rant as she tapped into one of her holo-screens, clearly searching for something. “–okay,  _ okay _ , I take that back, but next time call instead, please! Today has been a test of my ability not to strangle people… of course it was him, who  _ else _ would it be?” she rolled her eyes. “I have to go; just call next time Lance!”

She tapped her earpiece, ending the call with a huff, before moving to follow him along the hallway. 

“Everything alright?” Keith asked when she caught up (he rarely saw her so ruffled).

She took a breath. “Everything’s fine, I just had to speak to Mr. Serrano about something for tomorrow that I didn’t find in the main schedule. As it happens, I just missed a data drop this morning,” she said, smoothing a wrinkle out for her sleeve with a severe flick of her fingers (which meant things were definitely not fine as far as Van’tar’s mood went). 

Since she offered no explanation, Keith wasn’t too concerned, and was content let her grumble in private. “Did you get through to Iverson about tonight?” he asked. Rather than pressing her mood, distraction with work was always best where Ven’Tar was concerned.

“Oh yes, everything is on track,” she said, without so much as a blink. “Mrs. Cummings will be leaving after the visit to the labs as advised, and her husband and brother-in-law will be present at the meal later. Since the executive meeting ran over, I’ve arranged for the representative meeting to run over lunch; do you have any preferences?”

Thank god for Ven’tar and Lance. Hunk was right; he’d probably die at his desk chair without them. 

“Naczellan?” he asked hopefully as they reached the lift.

Ven’tar tapped furiously into her datapad. “Of course, sir.”

* * *

To say that the day had been one Katie had been expecting would be a lie. For one thing, she had woken up that morning to find Keith’s PA at her home at a time of day when most sane people–on their day off no less–were still holed up under their duvets. What had followed almost rivalled the morning where she’d woken up in Keith’s apartment instead of her own in terms of the surreal.

Especially when Lance had asked her if she knew the difference between a fish fork and a butter knife, then begged her to stand in for Keith’s absentee date to a fancy business dinner (at a restaurant she couldn't pronounce the name of). For some reason, she had agreed, and Matt was definitely going to string her out about it tomorrow.

Following one of the single most expensive shopping trips she’d ever had besides apartment shopping with Romelle before they lost their GalTech funding, Lance had raced through the streets to get her back to the labs with time to spare. With the four-thousand GAC’s clothing bag hidden beneath her coat, she’d made a bid for freedom after Lance’s promises to come by to help her with hair and make-up after she finished.

Somehow she’d made into the lab for her second day with half an hour left, but she was a frazzled mess and had almost rattled towards the coffee machine after hiding the clothes in her office (that still sounded amazing). Hunk had eyed her with alarm, asking if she was alright. She’d told him she’d had a busy morning.

She didn’t think she was supposed to keep it a secret, but at the same time, how did one casually slip ‘ _ I’m filling in for our CEOs absent date to some fancy dinner, and his PA hijacked my morning to buy me clothes _ ’ into a conversation? It didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

It was easier to forget about it, and forget about it she did; it wasn’t exactly hard when Katie came back from her lunch break to find a mountain of storage drives full of data on the very tablets that had brought her to this brilliant disaster in the first place sitting on her desk, with instruction to fix the software into useable as part of the Taujeerian brief.

‘ _ I thought I was too new for something this huge? _ ’ she’d choked when Hunk broke the news.

‘ _ Normally, yes, but Lab A have been underperforming, so we’re taking over their project. You’re our computing girl, so congrats! You’ve inherited the workload, _ ’ Hunk had sheepishly told her. ‘ _ Sorry for the short notice - the execs only decided to cut Lab A from the project this morning. But I’m sure whatever you can do with these in the next three months will be great! _ ’

Katie had expected a heavy workload, but to say that had been anything less than a shock would be an understatement, but she’d practically thrown herself at the hard drives, digesting as much of the information in them as she could. She didn’t even notice when the time passed and it turned to six ‘o’clock until a message on her interface from Lance lit up the screen.

‘ _ Be ready for seven; be round to pick you up at the back with Iverson. _ ’

Which was why she was now skidding down the halls of the labs, after Hunk had locked up at half-six in search of a toilet that wasn’t locked up. She had half an hour to wrangle herself into a dress and heels, and get out to the carpark with all of her work gear.

Finding the one she’d been looking for when she had her interview day run in with the grumpy git outside Lab A, she managed to dive in just before one of the cleaners could put a closed sign on the door. The man was very understanding, and she managed to jump in and change relatively quickly.

That had sort of raised more questions–mostly, when the hell had Lance had time to figure out her bra size, because there was a backless set of strapless forms hidden amongst the carefully tissue-wrapped and boxed items of clothing,  _ and _ a pair of sheer tights–but she emerged dressed for the incoming war. Mostly; she hadn’t had time to manage the zip, but she could surely get Lance to help her with that, right? Until she could get to the car, she had covered her back up with the white jacket

After thanking the cleaner profusely, she found herself digging for long forgotten skills, rushing through the polished halls on heels the heights of which she hadn’t worn anything like since her high-shool days. Once upon a time–during her teenage rebellion–she had been able to run in high heels, but that talent had long rusted, so she could only manage a rushed trot.

Trying to find her way around the maze of hallways didn’t help. She spent another ten minutes going back and forth trying to find her way to the back car park before she remembered that she had downloaded the map off the datadump onto her phone. 

Opening up the mini holoscreen, she was in the middle of trying to triangulate herself in relation to the car park she’d followed Keith to yesterday when a familiar voice spoke out from behind her, making her start in surprise, fumble, and drop half of her bags.

“ _ Pidge? _ ” A silken, derisive sneering voice she would recognise anywhere asked. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Whipping around, her eyes widened at the slicked back platinum hair of the tall man standing in the hallway, still in his lab coat and expensive suit. 

“Lotor,” she wrinkled her own nose in displeasure. “Don’t tell me you work here too,” she frowned, managing to keep the panic in her throat from showing on her face by turning to pick up her things.

“I’ve worked here for several years now,” he said, glancing down his nose at her smugly, before bending down to help. “I’m the lead scientist in Lab A, but then that should be no surprise; unlike you, I completed the GalTech scholarship programme,” he smiled. 

Having gathered up the stupid expensive clothes back into their bags and boxes, Katie snatched her rucksack and coat back from him.

“That’s a relief,” she smiled pleasantly. “If you're in charge of Lab A, then that makes my job fixing your mess  _ much _ easier; Hunk gave me the project this morning,” she added, trying not get too much of a thrill watching the fall in his expression. “I didn't realise that it was your work, but I guess the messy code should have been my first clue; I’d love to stay and grill you for the technical details, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Lotor roamed his eyes over her– _ ew _ –and he sneered. “Yes, I imagine you do,” he said finally. “Do have a good evening Miss Holt.” 

With that he turned and returned to whatever path he had been following along the hallway. Katie didn’t have the time to worry about her ex-college classmate, and really didn’t want to waste her energy on him either. His presence at Samasama was one she would scream over later into her pillow, but right now she had a car park to find.

Thankfully, she’d found her way on the map, and was able to find her way out without having to go looking at it again. Lance and Iverson were waiting by a sleek black car that looked recently cleaned and polished to perfection, and upon sight of her, Lance rushed over to help her with her things as Iverson went to open the boot of the car.

“You made it!” he beamed. “C’mon, c’mon we need to move!”

Iverson took her bags from Lance and had the car moving moments after they had both climbed in. As they travelled, Lance started putting a few styling waxes into her hair, making it kind of tousled and messy and soft and shiny. Then he coated her skin in a thin mineral foundation, and some other coloured powders she couldn’t quite identify between the car movements and holding her head steady before he doused her eyes in some generous coats of mascara.

“Okay, not my best, but it will work,” he said, letting out a breath once he was done. The buildings had started getting taller a while ago, and to her dismay they were already turning in through the private gates to the underground parking of Keith’s building. Surely it couldn't have taken that long to put on some makeup? How were they here already?

“Iverson is going to keep all your stuff in the car until he takes you home; I figured you wouldn’t want us going into your apartment,” Lance continued. Katie felt like telling him that considering he’d already shown up on her doorstep at stupid-am that morning, she didn't think it would make much difference, but kept her thoughts to herself as he peered out of the window.

They had pulled up in one of the parking spaces, and over the top of another car, she could see the lift doors opening.  And there was the top of Keith’s head–craning her neck, she could see the dark silhouette of a sleek tux heading towards the car. Lacne must have seen it too, because he started unbuckling his seatbelt, picking up a box that had been sitting on the back seat and her clutch.

“There’s mascara, liner, blotting paper, and some clear gloss in the clutch for touch ups; don’t worry about cash or ID, you won’t need it” he told her, hurriedly pushing the clutch into her hands, before opening the door. 

“Is my phone there?” she asked, fumbling with the latch and trying to peer inside.

“No clue, you won’t need it anyway,” Lance shrugged, spritzing her with some perfume he’s also pulled from the bag of cosmetics at his feet.. “Just be polite, and let Keith control the conversation; he’ll keep you straight. I’ve got to go talk to him, so I’m jumping out here, but thanks again for doing this, you’re my lifesaver! Good luck!”

And with that, he was out of the car, door closed behind him, jogging over to Keith, who had frozen in his tracks at the sight of his PA emerging from the car. They stood talking for a few moments, and Katie couldn’t see Keith’s face, but she could see the tense line of his shoulders, and watched as he brought his hands up to his face. 

The there were some wild gesticulations and muffled voices before Lance put a hand on his shoulder, handing Keith the box he’d taken from the car. After a moment, he relaxed, and Lance beamed, punching the air despite Keith’s grumpy demeanour.

“That’s the spirit, my man! Go on, go go go! Or you’ll be late!” He called out as Keith turned and stalked towards the car.

“And whose fault is that?” Keith snapped back. “Ven’tar’s right, you need to warn us about something like this next time! Who the hell did you call anyway?” He didn’t look totally convinced, and had a narrow-eyed look, his composure frazzled, and seemed a tad stressed. 

Lance had already turned and headed for the lifts, and she heard Keith let out a frustrated sigh before reaching for the handle. She could have counted her heart as it thudded in her chest beat by beat as the door opened, and Keith climbed in, turning his head to her as soon as the door was closed.

The irritation on his face was replaced by surprise, and he blinked as Iverson started the car up again, already prepared with their destination in mind, leaving his passengers to their own devices.

“Miss Holt?” Keith checked, and really, given what had just happened, she could hardly blame his surprise. He’d definitely not been expecting her to be sitting in the back of his car. 

She held up a hand and tried not to wave to wave too awkwardly. “Hi, you look as harassed as I feel,” she said, trying to find some sense of calm and joke away the tension. “I’m not really sure how this works, but I think for tonight it’d be easier if you just called me Katie.”

* * *

This story finally has chapter titles!!!!! also had way too much fun with this chapter. can you tell? Much love to KDXArt as always for helping me corral my ridiculous vocabulary and grammar into order, and Aknazer for all the brainstorming spam!

Enjoy <3

 **Rejected pile:**[ rainbow dress](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1082789/Balmain/sequined-mesh-mini-dress), [bodysuit,](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1080062/TOM_FORD/strapless-sequined-stretch-crepe-jumpsuit) [LBD](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1150940/reem_acra/asymmetric-draped-silk-faille-mini-dress), [cape dress](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1129817/oscar_de_la_renta/cape-effect-fringed-embellished-tulle-and-silk-blend-lame-gown), [white dress](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1107204/Miu_Miu/embellished-halterneck-cady-mini-dress), [tartan dress](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1084784/versace/buckled-paneled-tartan-wool-blend-mini-dress), [metallic/suede dress](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1137606/gucci/asymmetric-suede-and-metallic-leather-mini-dress), [black & crystalline halter dress](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1111846/saint_laurent/crystal-embellished-velvet-halterneck-mini-dress)

 **Accepted pile:** [Jacket](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1134873/Maticevski/firmament-cape-effect-belted-satin-blazer), [Dress](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1116922/Maticevski/enfanta-one-shoulder-ruffled-cady-mini-dress), [Bag](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1100620/jimmy_choo/sweetie-glittered-acrylic-and-metallic-leather-clutch), [Shoes](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1047239/alexandre_birman/clarita-bow-embellished-suede-sandals).


	11. On The Rise

“Miss Holt?”

Keith stared at the woman sitting beside him in the car, trying to make sense of the rapid changes that had occurred courtesy of his best friend; When Lance had said he’d covered for Acxa, Keith had been expecting someone who knew more about how these sorts of events worked, not Hunk’s newest lab employee.

She held up a hand waving a little, looking like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole; “Hi, you look as harassed as I feel” she joked awkwardly. “I’m not really sure how this stuff works, but I think it will be easier if you called me Katie.”

He was staring, and Keith knew he was being rude– _again_ –but he was still a little floored by the unexpected change in his partner for the evening. Honestly, tolerating Seok for the night would have been easier than figuring out how to gauge his manner around a woman he barely knew.

Well, in theory; in practice, tolerating his ex would probably have been a disaster that would have lost the company any potential investment from the people he’d be meeting tonight. Lance had probably made a good call, and yet again, Keith owed him big time. And poor Ven’tar, who had probably been conned into keeping this a secret–there was no way she would have hidden Acxa being hospitalised early of her own volition from him (he’d have to send her a fruit basket or something, and go visit Acxa once the surgery was over).

And yet, the whole situation still posed problems; Katie was not used to this routine and it showed. She looked kind of torn between strangling someone (he guessed Lance) and crying just sitting in the car; founders knew what she’d be like at the dinner (especially if any press showed up, which they unfortunately often did).

He’d have to keep an eye out for her. It wouldn’t really be hard, but this was a lot to expect from someone with little warning or prior preparation, and it would be incredibly stressful for her. Given all the attention from the recent photograph still circulating, he had to wonder why she’d agreed at all.

“Katie…” he tested, still slowly processing as he tried to readjust his brain to the new scenario. “…is probably better. Sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“I wasn’t either; it kind of only just hit me what I’d agreed to when you came out of the lift,” she sighed, seeming to sink into the pleather seats. “I should have just taken the bribery muffins and fled this morning, huh?”

Keith couldn’t help the curl of amusement on the corner of his lips. “It probably was the better option; these things are dull and usually too long,” he admitted. “But for what it’s worth, you look great,” he offered. “And now I know why Lance told me to change the colours on my suit,” he added, opening up the box Lance had handed him; inside was a tie, pocket square, and a pair of cufflinks in a matching shade of chartreuse green as formed the cut of Katie’s dress beneath her white jacket.

It really did suit her; not overly garish, but statement enough, and reasonably clean and classy. Keith wouldn’t have gone so far as to she she was unattractive the first time he met her, under dim club lights in a bartenders uniform. Far from it. Given the time to give her appearance any attention, and the right circumstances, however, she looked _very_ good.

“Shit! My dress!”

The exclamation started him, and Keith blinked in surprise, pausing mid-process of switching out his deep cobalt tie for the new one Lance had supplied. “What?”

“I was changing in the toilets after Hunk closed the lab and couldn’t get the back closed because my stupid arms are too short!” she explained. “The zip started too low, and I couldn’t really find it in all the flouncing bits, so I just covered my back up with this–” she picked up one of the hanging sleeves of the white, belted jacket she had closed around most of the dress, but the ruffled skirt. “–and had to leg it out to the car park. I meant to ask Lance to close it up, but then he took almost  an hour messing with my hair and face and I forgot about it after running into that _dickhead_ in the hall!”

Keith deflated. “That’s all?” he checked; some of that had been a bit confusing–‘ _dickhead?_ ’–but he figured he had the long and the short of it.

“I mean, wandering around the halls technically half dressed wasn’t a great start…?”

She looked confused.

“No, honestly, it sounds a little hilarious but I can see where it might not have been too fun for you,” Keith agreed. “But you just need zipping up right? That’s no big deal,” he explained. “Seriously, it’s an easy fix. Turn around, I can do it for you.”

The comment instantly bloomed across Katie’s face in a red tint across her cheeks. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, yeah, Okay, just, hang on,” she fumbled, shifting on the seat and pulling the jacket off her shoulders once she turned her back towards him.

The zip must have slipped between rushing and being in the car, because it had worked itself down to the hollow of her spine, revealing her slim frame and shoulders, and pale skin. Taking a breath, dampening his dry lips, Keith gathered the lemony green and white fabric together, carefully pulling the zip up to the top with his free hand, slowly to avoid catch her skin.

It was smooth beneath the knuckle of his fingers as he pulled the faster into place, watching as the fabric tightened and formed around the subtle curves of her narrow waist that disappeared from notice in the looser workwear he’d seen her wearing before.

Once the zip was closed, just below her shoulder blades, his fingers lingered on the hook and eye that held it all together. Her shoulders shifted at the soft brush of his fingers on her back as he fiddled with the tiny clasp for a moment, and his mouth felt dry.

“Done,” he said, perhaps a little later than the gesture should have taken, returning to his own fixes as Katie shifted in her seat, pulling the coat back on. “You okay?”

“Better, thanks,” she nodded, sitting back and letting out a breath. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“It's fine,” he said, hoping he was being reassuring. “If you aren’t used to stuff like this, it is intimidating, but if it helps, aside from small talk, there probably won’t be much that you need to worry about,” unrolling the replacement tie.

“I should probably warn you,” he confessed, sliding the tie under his collar, quickly wrapping it around itself and pulling it into a basic, but sleek, wide, three-layer knot beneath the sharp points of the stiff white fabric. “There’ll probably be a few press agents when we get to the restaurant. Camera bots, stream reporters and the like. Since Acxa is in hospital, they’ll probably want me to say something; it’s already on the feeds, and she normally comes with me to things like this. You don’t have to speak to them though, unless you want to–” he paused, watching the wrinkled expression of displeasure on her face with a little amusement.

“If that internet picture was any indicator of what happens from talking to any kind of media, then I really, _really_ don’t want to talk to anyone from a gossip stream,” she said firmly. “I’m not giving my brother any more ammunition; he already gave me an earful for going home with ‘ _some shady businessman_ ’,” she added.

“You should listen to him,” Keith grinned. “It sounds like a terrible idea,” he added, the teasing tone slipping out before he could catch it in check. “But in all seriousness, I am sorry for that,” he said sincerely. “I know it can be a lot to deal with, and if they are there, there’ll probably be more of it to follow. I can try to keep it to a minimum, obviously, but if I could control the media, I’d have done it years ago.”

Katie’s expression opened in surprise, then softened again. “It was just a surprise to be honest, though if I’d noticed it before you introduced yourself, I probably would have been a lot more confused, especially after the crazies that showed up at the club,” she admitted. “How do you _not_ strangle someone?”

“I think about the legal problems that would come from it,” Keith shrugged. “It’s sometimes easier to pander to them though, makes them back off if they get pesky. Keep in mind they only know whatever you choose to tell them; you’re in control of the information they want, and they know it. Just don’t give them too much of an inch, or they’ll take it for a mile.” Keith paused, trying to think of how to put his press dealing experience into words. “And I know which ones to avoid. I try to just stick to financial and tech reporters, and if I do have to talk to gossip columnists, I go for the ones who work for the higher end streams. Anything with ‘ _Celeb_ ’ or ‘ _Chat_ ’ in the name is usually more hassle than it's worth.”

“I don’t know how much of that I’ll need to remember, I’m hardly a fascinating specimen,” Katie shrugged. “But I promise I’ll keep it in mind.”

Keith didn’t quite know how to tell her he envied her naïvety without sounding condescending, so he just gave her a wry smile, folding the square so it would poke out with a bright splash of green when he replaced the current one in his breast pocket.

“Is there anything else I should avoid talking about?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking up from his folding.

Katie fidgeted tugging on the sleeve of her jacket with one hand, chewing her lip. “What I mean is, this is kind of a business dinner type-thing, right? On the off-chance someone does ask me something, is there anything I should be careful on what I talk about?” she asked as he finished the last couple of creases.

“Oh.” Keith paused, thinking on the question for a moment. “Nothing especially, well except the arm–investors are the gassiest vultures in existence, and I don’t want it being made public for as long as we can give it. Anything to do with the Taujeerian contract or personal projects is fine though, within reason,” he clarified, pulling the blue handkerchief out and replacing the pocket accent.

“What about inside? How do these things work?”

Taking the cufflinks out of the box–silvery metal squares with green rubber–and pushing back his tux sleeve, he raised an eyebrow at yet another question, and smiled, turning back to fumble with the tiny fasteners.

“The meal won’t start for a while–we’ll probably be in the lounge for drinks before– _shit_ –” a slight turn in the car had the back half of one link flying out of his hands and onto the floor. It landed in the footwell by Katie’s feet, and she leaned over to pick it up.

“Since you fixed my dress earlier?” she offered, holding it up tentatively.

Relieved from the pernickety task, Keith nodded, and she slid across the seat, reaching out for his wrist, and threading the small metal links through the holes in the double-cuffs. Her sweet, musky perfume filled his nose as he watched her, and the warmth of her hands and body seeped out with it.

“You were talking about the meal?” she asked, frowning a little before the chain cufflink finally threaded through the second set of cuff holes.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat a little as she fiddled with his shirt sleeves. “We’ll probably be in the cocktail lounge for a while before the meal starts. It’s not usually more than half an hour, and there’s snacks if you’re peckish. The dishes will be off a pre-set menu, but there are always plenty of options,” he continued as she moved onto his other hand.

Her fingers were small and deft, slipping the metal through the silk-cotton fabric with precision, and soft when she stopped to hold his hand steady. “If you aren’t sure what it is, I can translate–most of these investors are Naxzellan, apart from Ms. Stirling and Mrs. Cummings’ husband, so it was written in that branch of Galran…”

Pidge threaded the final half of the second cufflink into place, her eyes looking up as he continued to explain the different courses, the venue, general things about what to expect from the venue and other guests.

Relaxing back into the seats, the conversation and questions became a rare back and forth, glided through the streets to their destination by the smooth hum of the car.

Whether or not Katie meant to stay on the seat next to him, rather than move back, Keith offered no objections when warm company combined with the scent of her perfume combined too much and too well to turn her away.  


* * *

  
For Katie, the journey was a muddled mix of the questions on what to expect, how to react, and her own unconscious reactions to the man she was sharing the backseat with.

He’d been attractive since she first met him, but she never had to battle with that fact as much as she did in the back of a car, in a dress that made her feel a little bit more daring than usual, and the the mix of a sleek, well-kept black tux and cologne Keith had brought with him.

She should have moved back to her own seat, but she'd had questions, and there was hardly anything indecent in sitting where she had ended up. And they were just talking about.... strangely normal things. Like drama or documentary streams.

Keith mentioned his desperation to catch up on _Monster & Mana _, and when she threatened him with spoilers the terror on his face had been too funny for words. They ended up debating theories on whether Thunderstorm was truly brainwashed or just revenge crazy, and how long it would take for Valayun to figure out Koltarius was leading her up the garden path, but definitely not to the water she was looking for.

Then they started talking about a documentary stream about Smythe AeroDesign, and the chatter became so involved she didn't notice they had arrived at the restaurant until the scenery changed from sky rises and streets to private parkland.

The restaurant was located in one of the city's protected green reserves; it was built partially over the waterfront of a lake in the Central district, surrounding by trees and flowers, which were probably gorgeous in the sunlight.  Not that nighttime made it any less impressive; the lights from Central Garritt surrounding the park glistened in the water’s surface like fireflies, and she had to take a breath at the sight, and the buildings glowing lighting and modern exterior helped it to look every inch a high end restaurant.

More noticeable than the scenery however, was the small crowd of camera bots and press standing beside one of the barriers, just as Keith had predicted.  Their flashes and lifghts instantly turned on the car, presumably recognising it with glowing recording buttons and lighting flashes. The noise was dull through the metal and pleather interior of the car, but unmistakable, and Katie felt a little sick. She knew the windows were blacked from the outside, but she already felt exposed and raw. The feeling was hardly pleasant.

A social media photo on trend was one thing, but this was something else entirely. Some of the stickers on the cameras were ones she recognised from gossip streams and websites. Even the one from her brother’s news service was there.

“This is crazy,” she couldn’t help mumbling to herself, looking through the window of Keith’s door.

“Kind of tame,” Keith shrugged, somewhat nonplussed. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. The scent of his cologne was filling her nose and the part of her brain that approved of it was encouraging her to trust those words, but the doubt remained.

Perhaps sensing her unease, Keith put hand on her arm, fingers warm where they wrapped around her shoulder, squeezing gently, and pulling her out of the apprehensive flash-induced daze.

“Here's what's going to happen,” he said slowly. “I'll get out first, then once you’ve followed, stick next to me; I'll talk to one of them. They’ll probably want you to introduce yourself–but–if you don’t want to answer anything, remember that you can ignore them. No matter how invasive or persistent they seem, they don’t have any legal rights to your personal information. Often they’ll they try to put pressure on you with persistence to get it; don’t cave to it.”

He made it sound simple, but looking out of the window, she couldn’t help but feel that it was anything but.

“After that, we can ignore them completely, and head inside. If you're uncomfortable before then, pinch my wrist or palm or something. We’ll skip that completely and we’ll just head straight in.”

Katie took a breath, repeating it all out step by step in her head so she had it memorised, then nodded. Firmly. “Okay. I think I can do that,” she said after another breath.

The car had already rolled to a stop, and with her confirmation, Keith didn’t bother waiting for Iverson. Opening the door, the flashes were already going off in repetitive cycles as he stepped out onto the pavement, and people were shouting over the top of each other to the point that the words themselves were indistinct. Unfazed, he turned around and held a hand out as she slid across the seat.

Closing her eyes with another breath, she took it, moving her legs out and pulling herself from the car. Before the heels of her shoes touched the pavement, the flashes had doubled, and the shouting had increased. Gripping the warm, reassuring fingers around her hand, she walked as confidently as she could, trying to the lingering blur on her eyes from all the camera flashes.

They walked between the barriers, the lights rippling across her skin as the indistinct words started to come clearer. The mass of noise–not quite deafening, but getting close–was slowly lessening, allowing words to be formed, and with them, questions.

“Keith, have you heard from Acxa?” one persistent voice asked as they passed. The slowing pace told her they were about to stop in front of the woman and her mob of photographers and the camerapersons. “Are you going to see her?”

“Considering she’s in surgery, I think talking would be a little difficult,” Keith said, like he was holding a conversation with a neighbour. “I’ll most likely go visit once she’s allowed visitors; right now the peace and quiet is probably a relief for her after the tour.”

“Hey!”

One of the other reporters was struggling to get his attention; Katie was having trouble keeping her face focused instead of a wincing mess from all the flashes and recording lights. Where the hell was she supposed to look?

That would probably have been a good question to ask in the car, but she'd been too distracted by Keith's stupid sexy-smelling cologne by the time the chapter took off to think about sensible topics. Like sparing herself from online mortification because she looked at a camera the wrong way.

“Is your companion tonight the woman from the photo?” The first reporter asked, as if Katie wasn't standing right in front by of her. “Are you and Acxa breaking up? You and your new date seem close.”

It took all of Katie’s self control not to snarl at the woman eying their hands with a demanding kind of confidence, like she'd just struck gold.

“Acxa and I have always had an open relationship; we’re good friends, as we’ve both stated before, break-ups aren’t really a thing that comes up between us,” Keith said. Katie noticed that he didn’t answer the first half of the question. Had he not heard or was that deliberate?

“Have you heard any details on whether this was a scheduled surgery?”

Keith let go of her hand as he shrugged, spreading his hands with uncertainty. “That’s personal information and you know it Luka; honestly, I don’t know, but I wouldn't tell you either way.”

“I guessed as much, but it was worth a try!”

“Hey! Hey you! Girlie!”

Katie jumped, and looked around, feeling a shiver down her back (despite the warmth of the jacket keeping of the October evening chill) when she realised the reporter from before had actually been trying to get her attention.

“Hey!” The man called out, his tone more directed once he realised he’d caught her attention, waving at her, trying to beckon her closer; hesitantly she took a few steps towards him.

“Are you talking to me?” she asked, still hoping he was just trying to talk to Keith.

“Yeah yeah,” he seemed unfazed by her surprised. “Is it true you’re a stripper?” he continued, a microphone bot hovering around her with a matching hover cam.

Katie nearly choked. “ _What?_ No!” She couldn’t help blurting out. Where the hell did he get that from? Had the internet thing grown arms and legs since she last checked? Maybe she should have checked on it more.

The first man’s badge had a logo on it– _CelebStream?_ She recognised that one. But was that one of the ones Keith had warned her about? She couldn’t remember. Everything kept flashing, and she could hardly hear anything through the noise, let alone think.

“Where are you from?” Another called out. “Who are you wearing?”

It took a long moment for her to realise the reporter was asking about her clothes; the lights were still flashing, and three more hover cams had joined the first, along with more microphones, an imposing swarm of blinking fireflies that pierced the corner of her eyes almost as badly as the photography flashes.

“Olkaria,” she said, trying to place herself and figure out how to get herself out of the hornets’ nest she inadvertently walked herself into just by looking a single reporter in the eye. “I have no idea–I didn’t look?”

“How long have you known Keith?”

“Not very-”

“How did you meet? Are you the girl from Club Xanthuria?”  

Where was Keith?  She shouldn't have wandered. She had no idea how to cope with all this. It was too much, and her assumptions that people would be uninterested in her had been laughably wrong.

Apparently people were very, _very_ interested in her simply from partial association. This was insane, and yet Keith had called all this tame? If that was the case she dreaded to think what the media at their worst looked like. The flashes continued, and she did her best not to wince.

“If you already know, then why are you asking me? That questions a little redundant, isn’t it?” she shot back at the rude, nosy mob, nerves frayed, but finally getting her voice out over the mass of questions and interruptions.

“Is that a confirmation that you slept together?!”

“Did you have sex?!” the first reported demanded.

“Are you lovers?!”

“Are you a hired escort?!”

The snappy retort, like the ones Keith had used with the first woman who he had been talking to, didn't have the intended effect, because instead of giving a cool cut-off that she could walk away from, it just inflamed the swarm of fireflies into an inferno she had no idea how to douse. Before she could say any more, she felt a hand on the small of her back.

“Now you're just insulting us both Branko, but just to be clear, my friend here is an employee. I asked her a favour in keeping me company this evening,” Keith said calmly, hand moving to hers again; Katie was not ashamed of how fiercely she took back hold of it. “Which, as much as I love these chats, we need to get back to. Excuse us.”

“Wait, Keith!

“Hey! What’s your name?!”

Matching her pace, Katie was all too keen to follow Keith's guiding movements towards the door of the restaurant. The door guard was already scanning his access chip, and within moments, they were inside.

“Keith!”

“Hey! He-”

The door slid back into place, and the noise of the crowd just outside it completely disappeared, muffled by soundproofing, and gone from sight thanks to the automated blackening of the glass. Taking a breath she stared at the door suspiciously, half expecting it to be bombarded and toppled onwards by the horde.

“Are you okay?” Keith’s voce was concerned. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to leave you by yourself with them.”

“It’s not your fault, I shouldn't have looked at them, or wandered over,” she shook her head, running her fingers through her hair a little, trying to calm down. “I really didn’t think they’d care that much about me. You call that tame?” she asked incredulously.

“Relatively, the press room at Vermillion can fit over five hundred reporters at press conferences, but even in everyday terms, if people know my schedule and try to follow ahead of me, what’s outside is still small in comparison,” he said, sounding like he was trying to explain a foreign concept; in some ways, he was. “I think the fact that Acxa is in hospital is distracting most of them for now. Tomorrow will be worse, probably.”

Katie didn't know how to react to that; the fact that Keith considered that hellstorm outside normal–even worse, average–was just something she did not know how to comprehend. How long had he dealt with things like this to get to the point that he could just brush it off?

“Would you like me to take your jacket Miss?”

The question came from a man who had emerged from a sleek wood and metal desk, in a well pressed and clean uniform.

“Uh, yeah sure,” she blinked, unfastening and shrugging off her coat. “Here.”

After handing it to the man he gave her a token, and disappeared with it behind the desk. Taking another breath, she looked back at Keith; what exactly were they doing next?

“Need a drink?” he asked, offering out an arm. “Not the whole bottle this time, I promise.”

The wry joke made her smile a little, and she linked her arm into his, letting him steer her through the building. “Now that sounds like a fantastic idea.”  


* * *

 

Once again despite Katie’s initial expectations, the dinner was not the hardest part of the evening.

They'd started out in a cocktail lounge, which had probably the most soothing thing for her frazzled nerves; cocktails at least were familiar territory, and after a few moments in deep conversation with the bartender, she’d been sitting down with one of her own recipes from Xanthuria.

Cool refreshing floral juniberry liqueur, some nunvill, lime juice and crushed ice smoothly cleared the panic hovering in the back of her throat, and it tasted all the better because she hadn't made it herself for a change.

Keith had made face after tasting it, but that had been more humorous than insulting. She already knew he preferred richer and heavier spirits to the fruits and herbals and clearer tastes that she favoured.

Not that she didn't appreciate whisky or bourbons–his Padrihno wasn't half bad. The Drazil whisky (another Balmeran if she remembered correctly) wasn't too smoky, had more honey in it, which she preferred. The almond liqueur softened it down a bit too.

The investors had started arriving not long after that, and Keith had already gone through their names with her, but the only one she had heard of was Ryner Stirling (a prominent figure in software engineering from Olkaria).

Katie had managed to speak with them all well enough with basic manners and careful topics of conversation. Though leery at first, once she’d mentioned her university choices they mellowed, and Ryner hadn’t batted an eyelid at her at all, even when she had to get Keith to translate the menu when that came around (along with some tiny filo pastry snacks filled with goats cheese and sunblush tomatoes which promised good things later).

Going from the way Keith let her talk without any gentle nudges in topic, she hadn’t mentioned anything that wasn't ready for public or even private knowledge, so by the time the call for the meal arrived, she didn’t feel like she was doing too badly. In fact, he seemed happy to let her talk at her own pace while he had a deeper discussion–quieter–with a Taujeerian man.

She suspected that they were talking about the delayed project, because once, when she was watching in curiosity, Keith and the anxious-looking man in a rich orange-red layered suit, both turned towards her, and his face changed. After that the man had asked her a few more questions about the tech she had worked with in university.

She even managed to keep up with all the cutlery when the dinner call arrived. At first she had wondered how on earth she was supposed to finish five courses, but then the soup course arrived (Keith had very enthusiastically told her it was a tofu stew during the ordering, not a soup) and she realised the portions weren’t too big.

In fact, they weren’t big enough. The soup was delicious enough as it was. No wonder Keith liked it. She wanted a vat of it all for herself, but no. She had had four more unsuitably small meals to get through first, all just as good.

The next was a collection of different dumplings, which she decided not to try and eat with the chopsticks everyone else was using. Some had pork, spicy pickled veg and tofu inside, another had beef, cucumber, bean sprouts and mushrooms, and others were actually made with fish fillets, stuffed with roasted garlic and more pickled veg. They came with individual sets of dipping sauces, and once again, there weren't enough of them.

After that, a cooler sort of salad, made with something (according to the Naxzellan woman sitting opposite her) called chamnamul, spinach, soybean sprouts, pea leaves and pods, and crown daisy greens, which could probably make a good take-to-work lunch, since it was pickled too.

The main part of the meal was a literal hot, stone bowl that had eggs frying on the side, along with rice, more vegetables than she could recognise, and a spicy broth and more generous generous slices of meat throughout. A spoon came alongside the chopsticks, so she felt a little less uncultured there. Still. It was great.

The came the desert, which was kind of two things. There were a few trays of sweet bitesize morsels including honey-skeins–puffed chocolate or honey-nut filled parcels wrapped in layers and layers of sugary threads that melted in her mouth–and mouthfuls of small candied fruits, biscuits, and moulded hard sweets. The main part was shaved ice with sweet-milk, chopped fruit coulis, and some tiny fruit jellies.

Somehow, she felt full, and disappointed when, after the goodbyes had taken place–with the investors leaving their promises to book appointments with Keith–she still wanted more of the food. Maybe she could find it elsewhere in the city, just as good, but the meal had made the whole night worth the hassle.

Sinking back into the car–after walking straight past the flock of reporters this time–she felt like she could fall asleep. Keith had slid in next to her and he looked likewise shattered as he pulled his tie looser, letting it hang. If she didn’t have to get out of the car, she might have similarly yanked her heels off.

“That went well,” he sighed once the tie was loose.

This was where Katie found herself dealing with the more difficult portion of the evening. The passing of time to the now-early hour of the morning had dulled the initial fierce scent of Keiths cologne to a more subtle fragrance that was warm on her nose as the arm that had been on her shoulders as they walked back through the reporters, and calming as the cocktails and dinner champagne had been.

Here in the back of the car was no different, and she had to remind herself that she had been drinking, and trying to flirt with her boss was not a good idea. Well, it felt like a good idea, but she knew it wouldn’t be. No matter how nice Keith’s arm felt still warm and comfortable on her shoulder, or how comfy and easy it was to lean back into it.

“Really?” She asked, looking up as the car pulled away from the restaurant, heading back through the rolling parkland towards the city.

Keith nodded, head lolling to the side, his eyes closed for a moment. “Yeah. They like tech questions, and I can’t always answer those directly. Maybe some things, but details are beyond my level. I think you were a big help there tonight,” he said. “Especially Mr. Cummings.”

“That was the Taujeerian man in the big orange suit?” Katie frowned, trying to remember the faces. “You were talking to him a lot,” she mused. He’d sat beside the man at dinner, and another man who’s looked like his brother. “Should I be upset?”

The comment, emboldened by the alcohol, end-of-the-night satisfaction, and not-so-surprisingly pleasant company, slipped out without any of her say-so, but Keith just chuckled, doing nothing to be discouraging when he turned his head closer.

Katie had no idea what she was doing. Any closer, and she might as well be sitting in his lap, and she doubted Keith would try to stop her; her navigation of social situations had never been great, but she’d been around long enough to know when flirty conversation and body language were leading up to something.

“I dunno, maybe,” he teased. “Are you?”

Katie parted her lips to reply but couldn’t find the words as she caught his eyes again. The dim light from the city made the purple a little darker as they passed the buildings. His arm slid from her shoulders as he turned towards her a little more, wrapping around her back and resting against the smooth fabric of her dress. His hand slipped over her bare skin, tantalising just below the start of the zip.

“His wife is the representative from the Taujeerian government’s emergency service division. They’ve been liasoning with the company through the project. He works on the finance side of it,” He continued; his fingers were mixed in amongst the ruffles at the back, where he’d so carefully fastened her in on their first trip, flicking the metal gently back and forth between his fingers.

“She wasn’t there? Isn’t that the kind of thing she would have shown up to?” she asked, breaking the gaze to examine one end of the loosened tie hanging around his neck, focusing on the slight pattern in the weave, taking a breath as his thumb brushed her skin were the back of her dress fell low on her back.

“Had to fly back to Taujeeria after the lab tours earlier, but Baujal stayed behind to go over some follow up questions,” Keith said quietly watching her fiddle, moving again. She bit her lip at the sting of disappointment when his fingers left her skin as he propped his arm against the backseat, until she felt his knuckles brushing the side of her neck, his fingers gently brushing through the short layers of her hair.

“So,” she said, dropping the tie and twisting a little in her seat to lean in closer, the silk trousers of his tux smooth against her legs. “He was important?”

He nodded. “I was worried at first, because most of the questions left were about the datapads, but then Lance conned you into this, and who better to explain things than the woman who’s going to be working on them?” Keith asked “It might have been chance, but you may have saved me more than one or two needlessly long video conferences.”

The words were warm and honest, and the genuine compliment did everything needed to make her face brighten into a smile. “It still isn't much,” she said, wrapping her hands into the lapels of his tux, using the inspection to take another deep scent of the warm cologne. “The hardware in those pads isn't really suited for the purpose. I have an idea to fix it but I need to run it by…” Her memory failed her as Keith’s thumb traced the line of her jaw, encouraging her gaze up. “Hunk first? Maybe his boss? Err…”

“Ulaz,” he supplied, hand warm on her side, slowly inching lower.

His eyes were such a rich colour, and she flicked a tongue over her dry lips. His seemed closer, and she wondered if it really would be such a bad idea act on impulse, and find out if they would be as soft on hers as they looked.

Before she could find out, the smooth roll of the car along the roads, and the blink of the lights through the darkened windows came to a halt.

Looking just beyond Keith’s shoulder (as he too turned to inspect the cause for the stop), just outside the car door, was the front of her building again; turning back to each other, Katie felt the haze and obliviousness that came with alcohol and desire lifting, and found herself surprised.

She was still leaning into the fingers on her neck, thumb brushing her jaw, the other caught at her hip where it had been slowly moving lower. Her legs had moved unashamedly closer to his and her hands were still tucked into the lapels of his tux jacket, pulling him closer, enough that all she had to do was either close her eyes, and let him pounce on her like his body language suggested, or lean up and press kiss him herself, like she very clearly wanted to.

Katie had a moment where she realised she had two options; she could pull herself back to more modest distance from her CEO, or, she could go out on a limb and invite him inside with her.

There was a pause in the back of the car as she weighed things up; Iverson hadn’t moved, and she needed to get her stuff out of the boot still. But she also didn’t want to move.

Ultimately, the break in the tension had made the decision for her. Reluctantly, as Keith began to make the same conclusions, she dropped her hands, slowly reaching for the jacket on the seat beside her instead.

Keith was silent as he pulled himself back, watching until she had her clutch bag before opening the door and stepping out. After holding it for her, he headed round the back opening up the boot and pulling out her backpack and the bag Lance had given her that morning, and once again, she found herself standing on the steps with him.

“Thank you, for the lift home, again,” she said, breaking the tuned, but not awkward silence.

She could still do it. She just had to ask. Just a few words. The worst that could happen would be she’d misread his attention (somehow she doubted it). She just had to ask.

“Thanks for stepping in, even if you were bribed,” Keith smiled back, the expression small but warm. For a moment she felt a bit of disappointment for not getting the words out, then she felt a finger lock around her own.

Starting she looked at the man on the steps before her, and then the scent of cologne filled her nose as he leaned in closer, pulling her gently towards him. His lips pressed soft against her cheek, at the corner of her lips, and her breath hitched.

His fingers gripped her hand, and when he pulled back, she knew the dark in his eyes was nothing to do with the lighting. She just had to ask him in.

“I’ll… I’ll see you soon,” he said after a moment, before stepping back, and returning to the car.

It wasn’t until she had located her card key, made her way in a daze up the steps, and flopped onto her bed, bags dumped at the side, and woken up two hours later still in her heels and dress, that she realised the full extent of the evening, and its revelations.  


* * *

**MOMENTOGRAPH**

You have 178+ new messages

You have 93+ new messages

You have 206+ new messages

You have 453+ new messages

You have been tagged in 92+ posts

You have been tagged in 178+ posts

You have been tagged in 301+ posts

You have been tagged in 593+ posts

You have 652+ new likes

* * *

**RECENT DATA DROPS**

**ServerTech@Samasama.HWI.org**   
Subject: _RE; System Access Passwords._

Miss Holt, Please find enclosed the access passwords to connect your home database to the Hawkinovate server system…[19:17pm]

 

 

 **HunkGaluvao@Samasama.HWI.org**   
Subject: _Taujeerian Tablet Code & Info._

Hey Pidge, figured I’d send you this when you mentioned you were gonna get your apartment set up on the company network this weekend. If you get the chance to get a draft of the plan you told me about set up… [20:45pm]  


* * *

 

**  
Dad**

\---Saturday 10th October 2037    08:19am---

[5 Missed Calls]

Katie when you get this, please phone us.

We’re worried about all this stuff on the streams about you.

 

 

**The Mothership**

\---Saturday 10th October 2037    10:33am---

[9 Missed Calls]

Katie, please call me back as soon as you can.

 

 

**The Monster Matt**

\---Saturday 10th October 2037    13:19Pm---

[ _https://www._ _scrutiniser_ _.mrt/news/article-6654721_ ]

im not even going to ask at this point but hot damn sis

your boss is a total ten

dont look too bad yourself

but while youre out having a good time

also

consider this

PHONE OUR PARENTS

cause by the founders if they werent   
freaking out before, they are now

anyway, still coming round to help   
us with moving in this morning?

or are you still ‘busy’ : _smugface_ :

[3 Missed Call]

wait, youre not actually ‘busy’, are you?

[2 Missed Calls]

ANSWER YOUR PHONE HOW MANY TIMES

OI

PIDGE

Katie?

Are you okay?

[5 Missed ca--]

…

…

…

System Error

Line error X345JJK7

Screen Error 23-B

Screen Error 19-Z

Screen Error 77-G

+54 Errors

Camera Error A

Camera Error B

+7 Errors

Enter Security Codes to Access Backup Protocols

[INCORRECT]        [INCORRECT] [INCORRECT]

 

[ _CACKLING FACE IMAGE_ ]

 

SAFETY LOCKDOWN IN PLACE

Touch Input Er–––

00000000000000

0000000000000

Extensive hardware damage detected

000000000000

00000000000

Extensive hardware damage detected

00000000000

0000000000

Extensive hardware damage detected

000000000

00000000

Extensive hardware damage detected

000000

00000

Extensive hardware damage detected

0000

000

Extensive hardware damage detected

00

0

Extensive hardware damage detected

Emergency Data Save & Handset Erasure in

…5…

…4…

…3…

…2…

…1…

There is no data available on this device.

* * *

 **Keith’s Clothes:** [Tux](https://www.harveynichols.com/brand/givenchy/313781-black-mohair-and-wool-blend-tuxedo-jacket/p3414605/), [Tie & Pocket Square](https://www.ascotandpowell.co.uk/product/lime-classique-tie/) and [Cufflinks](https://www.omegawatches.com/en-us/omega-rubber-cufflinks-c92sta0510005)

It should be known that I have learned more about cufflinks and tie-knots and ~~hankies~~ ‘ _pocket squares_ ’ than I ever thought possible or needed this chapter. Also it turns out you can spam pinterest boards, who knew?

Thank you as always to KDXArt and Aknazer for their help and support listening to my rambling and translating my gibberish for public viewing. <3

**Running Alcohol List Update!**

**Pidge:** ‘[Juniberry Julep](https://www.instagram.com/p/BujqS9iDjDm/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet)’ I added ‘ _Nunvill_ ’ to this recipe, but in my head Nunvill is like Tequila :) or White Rum. Tequila is more where the Julep name came from, bc… well mint juleps, so leaning more towards tequila. The Juniberry equivalency is Rose.

 **Keith:** ‘ [ Padrihno ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6FMZ9FPTHYs)’. Scotch and Amaretto but I’m trying to switch up the classic cocktail names to fit in-universe, so I renamed it with the very ancient method of wikitionary word search>translations.


	12. Everyone's Favourite Girl

[ _https://www.scrutiniser.mrt  
_ ](https://www.scrutiniser.mrt)Saturday 10th Oct 2037

* * *

 

 **SCRUTINISER  
**Subscribe today for celebrity news, gossip, media news, and style and beauty columns for just ₲8.72!

* * *

**Acxa Luttrell Admitted to Hospital**

_By Luka Wahlgren, Celebrity Editor._

* * *

 

 **  
**Acxa Luttrell was admitted to Fort Garritt General Hospital yesterday afternoon after collapsing at her North District home and taken into emergency surgery, much to the alarm of the singer’s fans and neighbours.

Luttrell, who suffers with acute Endometriosis, announced that she had arranged to have a routine hysterectomy at the hospital last month after serious pain from the condition forced her to end the last stop of her _Prisoner 2037_ concert tour in Polluxia, Altea, early. Luttrell nearly collapsed on stage after trying to force herself to the end of her set, before being escorted from the stage by concerned arena staff and personal aides.

[   _Luttrell being escorted helped offstage from Polluxia’s HTECH Arena by an aide_  ]

Keith Hawkins, CEO of the technology mega-corp Hawkinovate, friend and frequent companion of Miss Luttrell, confirmed that she had been admitted to the hospital last night at a private dinner with Hawkinovate Inc investors when her usual presence was replaced with a Hawkinovate Employee, who remained nameless.

[ _Photo inset of Keith Hawkins and his unnamed date outside Sal’s Restaurant_ ]

He declined to comment on the nature of the emergency, claiming that while he did not know the reasons for the admittance, he was still uncomfortable discussing Luttrell’s private information. He did however visit the hospital earlier this morning, with an armload of the singer’s favourite treats.

[ _Photo inset of Keith Hawkins outside FGGH in elastic embellished black/purple cargo trousers, purple t-shirt, and white jacket_ ]

Miss Luttrell’s representatives, and later the singer herself later confirmed via Momentograph that she was already in recovery.  


* * *

  
“So, did you actually hook up this girl?”Acxa asked, looking up from her datapad screen as Keith stepped into her hospital room. “Because if you did, I’d approve. She looks nicer than that last guy you slept with.”

Keith gave the blue-haired woman a withering look as he closed the door behind him. “Seriously, I come all this way to check up on you, and the first thing you asked me is if I screwed someone?” he asked, carefully placing a carrying box, hot flask, and a case of juniberry lemonade bottles on the nightstand. “Why is everyone so interested in what my dick’s doing?”

“Because whoever’s getting it might end up the spouse of _Scrutinisers_ ’ number one on…” she looked back at her datapad. “…‘ _Top 10 Bachelors and Bachelorettes!_ ’ one day. You’re trending on these things again. So, who is she?”

Her hand reached out for one of the bottles in a grabby motion; Keith sighed, picking the bottle of magenta lemonade out of the case and pulling off the cap before handing it to Acxa’s outstretched hand. “I shouldn’t give this to you,” he frowned. “Are you even allowed to drink this stuff?”

Acxa took a sip from the bottle, leaning back in bliss on her pillows. “Probably,” she said. “Maybe? It’s better than the water. My mouth tastes like an ass from all of the painkillers. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why are you so concerned?”

“I’m nosey, and I’m concerned for your welfare like a good friend,” she smiled, batting her eyes with deliberate innocence, but rolled them when it failed to illicit anything except a dull stare. “Okay, I’m bored already. I can only read my books for so long. And maybe a little bit kooky from the medicine.”

“And the truth emerges,” Keith sighed, sitting down at her feet on the bed, pulling off his white denim jacket. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “I was worried when Lance told me what was going on before the dinner. What happened? I thought your operation was scheduled for next month?”

“It was,” Acxa shrugged. “But I pushed it too much in the gym and like, five cysts went pop at the same time,” she explained, putting a ‘ _pop_ ’ on the words itself and splaying her fingers like explosions for effect. “So here I am. Relax. I’m fine; I can’t feel my fingertips, let alone the stitches,” she mumbled, wiggling said fingertips. “Come on, tell me what this mess is all about. I thought you were trying to avoid this sort of thing after you took over?” she asked, sipping at her lemonade. “It’s the primary basis of our relationship. Besides my riveting company, and my ass.”

“This is like talking to you when you’re drunk,” Keith grunted, looking around at the room, picking up a datapad from the end of the bed and raising an eyebrow for permission. With the nod of her head, he peered at the medical mumbo jumbo, trying to make sense of it all. “I was originally, avoiding this sort of thing that is,” he said, squinting at her doctor’s scribble writing. “But I need to keep the board distracted for a while, and it kind of worked out anyway,” he admitted. “I did meet her at a strip club, but she was a bartender, not a stripper. Or an escort.”

“I’m not surprised Branko is making shit up,” Acxa noted between sips. “I am kinda surprised you went to a strip club though.”

“Lance,” Keith shrugged as an explanation.

“Ah, okay,” she nodded, draining the last of her drink. “Go on.”

“She found the problems in the Taujeerian project, so I got Hunk to give her a full interview, and he hired her,” he explained, giving up on trying to decipher the scribble, and replacing the datapad back into its dock at the end of the bed. “I didn’t know she was replacing you last night until I got in the car. Lance thought I’d skip if I knew you were in hospital, so he made Ven’tar keep it quiet.”

“Good,” Acxa said, handing him the glass bottle and nodding at the recycling bins. “Investors shouldn’t be skipped because of my fucked up insides. Continue.”

“There not much else to tell,” Keith said, getting to his feet and dropping the bottle into the appropriate canister. “Lance got her clothes, she came to the dinner, it went pretty well, and Iverson drove us both home,” he shrugged. “That was all that happened.”

Acxa narrowed her eyes at him, half confused, half suspicious. “I don't believe you,” she said bluntly.

“What? Why?” Keith demanded incredulously.

“Because that girl is ten for ten your type,” Acxa said rolling her eyes, handing him another bottle to open. “She’s got that cute, sexy pixie kinda look, she’s smart, and she isn’t filled with plastic,” she said bluntly, crossing her arms. “You’re honestly telling me you two _didn’t_ get it on?”

Acxa’s pertinent questions were not helped by the memory of Katie’s warm body close against his own in the car, or when the feel of soft skin beneath his lips when he’d impulsively (and a bit drunkenly) kissed her goodnight were returned to his mind, _vividly._

“No!” he blurted, feeling his face heating a little, focusing determinedly on the bottle cap–of course this one was stuck. “Why does everybody seem to think I want to fuck everyone who walks in front of me?”

“Well, you’ve never had any qualms with one night stands before, so it’s not an… unrealistic…” Acxa trailed off, her head tilting curiously.

“What?” Keith glowered at her.

“Are you blushing?” she asked after a moment of quiet contemplation

“No.”

“You are!” she stared, sitting up and looking a little more closely, a grin spreading gleefully across her face. “You haven’t screwed her yet, but with those legs and that dress? I’d bet money that you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Acxa’s grin widened, and Keith crossed his arms, looking away from her. He was a terrible liar, but he also didn't want to dignify her accusations with a response, so awkward silence was his reply; it wasn't having quite the intended effect he wanted judging by the expectant, yet patient stare.

Keith fidgeted uncomfortably. If Katie had been someone less connected to the company, he might not be having this conversation with Acxa at all. Maybe he wouldn’t have woken up in his own bed, or maybe he would have woken up with company back at the loft. He would never know, and he wasn't sure if he regretted just giving the her a simple kiss on the cheek for parting affection.

“Okay, _yes_ , she’s attractive,” he admitted, finally getting the lid on the second bottle open, and handing it back to her. “But if we’re seriously using something as dumb as sexual attraction as a first prerequisite for who my spouse should be, you and I ought to be on our fourth anniversary by now.”

“Point,” she conceded. “And thank the founders we’re not, you’d drive me nuts on a permanent basis,” Acxa smiled, her tone teasing as she reached out for the bottle. In spite of their tone, Keith knew the words were fond. “But seriously, if the board already think you’re sleeping with her, then what’s the issue? Is she not into you?” She paused then frowned, face hardening a little. “Or is she _too_ into you?”

Keith sat back down in his previous spot, huffing out a tense breath, arms crossed, uncertain. “I… don’t think that’s the issue,” he sighed. “She didn't recognise me.”

“What?” Acxa frowned in confusion, lowering the neck bottle before it could reach her lips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she didn't recognise me, at all,” he repeated, stressing the words. “The first couple of nights she thought I was some office middleman, or that I worked in Hunk’s lab,” he explained. “I ended up giving her a business card once I’d dropped her off at Hunk’s lab.”

Acxa blinked, then her lips parted in a silent surprise. Keith picked at the toggles and elasticated drawstrings on his trousers, feeling her stare on him yet again. “That’s… unusual.”

“And that’s a nice way of saying weird,” Keith muttered back.

“You have a bit of a crush, and it's hilarious to watch you fumble over it,” she teased. Leaning back on her pillows, her eyebrows furrowed a little. “Just, whatever you decide to do with it, be careful okay?”

“Careful with what? I barely know her,” Keith snorted, albeit truthfully. All he knew about her was that she was reasonably intelligent, liked fantasy drama-streams, and mixed some good cocktails. “I’ll be fine Acxa, shouldn't you be worrying less about me and more about yourself?”

“I’ll heal up,” she shrugged. “You’re always more stressed this time of year; just promise me you won’t rush into anything till it all passes.” She patted the bed beside her, slowly shifting herself. “Come sit with me. We should mess with our internet stalkers.”

“Your surgeon is going to kick me out if you pull your stitches,” Keith frowned, before getting to his feet and heading round to the other side of the bed. “I came to check on you after your operation, how did this end up with you giving me advice?” he muttered, sliding up beside her, holding an arm out so she could rearrange herself.

“I’m just talented,” Acxa snorted, setting up the interface that was connected to her patient ID wristband into camera mode. “Smile like you mean it.”

There were a few snaps from the camera app open on the holoscreen in front of them, and Acxa took a few more, tapping a few tags and filters into the social media post, before sinking against his shoulder once she’d hit send.

“Keith?” she mumbled, after a few moments.

“Yeah?”

“Thank for coming to see me,” she sighed, sleep and tiredness taking hold. Keith smiled, and wrapped his arm around her a little more. He wouldn't stay after she’d fallen asleep, but for now it wasn't much of a hardship.

“No problem Acxa.”  


* * *

**Acxa Luttrell (@Acxa_L)  · ‎Momentograph**

[ _https://momentograph.mrt/AcxaLuttrell_ ](https://momentograph.mrt/AcxaLuttrell)

_[ Image of a hot flask and confectionery box with green white and pink striped cakes ]_

_[ Image of a blue-haired woman sitting in a hospital bed cuddled into the shoulder of a dark-haired man ]_

Awake and on the mend guys :) so glad I decided to do this; I can get back to doing what I love without being crippled _#NO REGRETS!_ bestie dropped by and bought me chicken ginseng soup, lemonade, cuddles, and rainbow rice cakes after I was huffing about missing my sister’s food _#Keith Hawkins #softie_ Thanks K x _#recovery #hysterectomy #endometriosis awareness_

**6 hours Ago   | 177.6K Likes   | 79.3K Replies**

* * *

**AcxaOfficialNews:** Kacxa Confirmed <3  
 _17s_ | _9.5K likes_   | _Replies (1.5K)_

 **KarenM:** Get well soon Acxa! I love your music! The Lubos City show was amazing!!!!   
_21s_ |   _27.8K likes_   | _Replies (982)_

 **AliceAcxaFan:** Get well soon Acxa! And congratulations! I know thats a weird thing to say, but I had endometriosis too and my hysterectomy was life changing. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but it was worth it, and I hope the change is just as worthwhile for you too!   
_35s_ |   _14.7K likes_   | _Replies (3.7K)_

 **IAMZ:** Keith is such a good guy bringing you food! Hope you get well soon!   
_46s_   |    _619 likes_   | _Replies (219)_

 **Griffin_Fan05:** its been literally minutes and im already crying over this picture   
_57s_   | _4.7K likes_   | _Replies (732)_

 **FloB:** You two are such #couple goals I really hope you get back together for the GW Snick Gala! You two slay every year and I cant wait to see what you come up with this time!   
_60s_   |    _1792 likes_   |    _Replies (189)_

 **TizoBoi9:** So, guess he’s not sleeping that chick from the club?   
_2mins_   | _785 likes_   | _Replies (453)_

 **HannaK:** Congrats on finally getting your operation Acxa! All of your fans have been rooting for you since the concert in Polluxia! It was obvious how much pain you were in, so were all glad to see you doing better! Even after an operation, you look so much happier already, especially with your friends and family close <3 <3 <3 <3 <3   
_3mins_   | _7.9K likes_   | _Replies (211)_

 **19NaxzellaForever19:** Good to see you’re being well cared for! Chicken-ginseng is my favourite!   
_4mins_   | _1321 likes_   | _Replies (56)_

 **EndometriosisMRT:** Chicken-ginseng cures all! Get well soon!   
_7mins_   | _4.6K likes_   | _Replies (610)_

 **QueenAcxa3:** This is so obviously to distract people from that chick from last night feel sorry for acxa she can do so much better than this bitch boy   
_10mins_   | _3.9K likes_   | _Replies (789)_

 **NanciLillia-56:** We stan a power couple <3 <3 <3   
19mins   | 1.8K likes   | _Replies (2.1K)_

 **MK-O899:** We missed you Acxa! Get well soon!   
_21mins_  |   _543 likes_   | _Replies (1.6K)_

 **Ashley78:** Wht a drtbg why is evry1 so obsessed w/ths guy? hes just a rich kid douchebag   
_30mins_   | _6.1K likes_   | _Replies (7K)_

 **Christi989:** Keith is low key bringing up standards again I see, he’s such a good guy  
_57mins_  |   _4.9K likes_   | _Replies (4.9K)_

 **Hawk-EyesOfficial:** But what about the girl from the bar? Is she your bit on the side **_@K-Hawkins?  
_ ** _2 hrs_   | _8.8K likes_   |    _Replies (8.8K)_

 **Redd188:** im tired of seeing comments saying that keith is cheating on acxa theyve never been a solid item and have said as much for years they’re just friends with occasional benefits. keith’s ex was a sleazebag who cheated, and he’s never dated since acxa has said for years she doesnt want to be tied down they’re just friends and while were at it keith says plainly in the unedited videos from streams last night that the girl who filled in at that dinner was just an employee can you lot pls talk about something else :(   
_5 hrs_  |   _1162 likes_   |    _Replies (321)_

 **KingJ_J:** These two have legendary selfie skills.   
_6hrs_  |   _2.5K likes_   |    _Replies (506)_

 **NikiV09:** Imagine if these two ever actually confirmed theyre together, the whole world would go mental   
_7hrs_  |    _11.7K likes_   |    _Replies (7.3K)_

 **YP-Tiger:** Wow, he really went there huh? So much for being a good guy. For someone who got cheated on, hes a bit of a shithead using Acxa to distract people from his shitstorm while she’s hospitalised   
_10hrs_  |   _13K likes_   | _Replies (3.4K)_

 **AcxaMOOD:** Sometimes I forget keith is such a dork. Then Acxa tags him in her posts, and I remember he’s literally the same age as me instead of an old guy in a suit.   
_12hrs_   | _21.6K likes_   | _Replies (2.1K)_

 **GhostGirl:** I’m kinda glad im not Acxa, Keith, or that girl from the streams right now   
_13hrs_   | _11K likes_   | Replies (8.1K)  


* * *

 [ _https://www.celebstream.mrt_ ](https://www.celebstream.mrt)

**CELEB STREAM**

Top streams on your favourite celebrities everyday!

* * *

**Did Keith Hawkins cheat on Acxa with an escort?**

Saturday 10th  Oct 2037                 By Branko Amadi 

* * *

Keith Hawkins was seen at a private event with his mystery one-night-stand last night, instead of his frequent companion and lover Acxa Luttrell.

Hawkins was seen at Sal’s late yesterday evening for a business dinner with Hawkinovate investors, with his new companion dressed to the nines on his arm. The mystery woman–who like all of Keith’s lovers cuts a top notch figure in her designer dress, coat, and heels–was first snapped leaving with the notorious business mogul just over a week ago from high end venue, Xanthuria Private Eyes Club.

_[ Photo inset of Keith Hawkins and #XanthuriaGirl ]_

Following questions at the entrance to the high end Naczellan restaurant, the Olkarian babe, who refused to give her name, confirmed that she was the same girl from the photograph. Though she quickly denied rumours that she was a stripper at Xanthuria Private Eyes Club, she did not deny accusations of a sexual relationship between herself and and the business magnate, or other claims that she was a hired escort.

_[ Image inset of Keith Hawkins in a black tux and green tie, and his mystery date in matching mini-dress ]_

Her appearance occured the same night that Luttrell was in hospital for a hysterectomy. The operation was arranged following years of body pain caused by Endometriosis, which has been affecting Luttrell’s singing and modelling career.

Keith claimed she was an employee filling in for Acxa; the singer is usually seen with him at business events, and widely considered a long-time lover. The pair have been up close and personal since Acxa’s career launch, and fans…

 _ **CLICK HERE TO SUBSCRIBE FOR FULL ARTICLE, POLLS, COMMENTS, AND MORE!**_  


* * *

When Katie finally dragged herself and made her way over to her brother’s new flat–pulling her hood up on the bus this time–she didn’t know what she was expecting.

The door accepted her ID chip without any problems, and she stepped inside looking around curiously at it all. Whatever she had expected, it certainly wasn't the relatively controlled chaos of neatly packed moving boxes, all somehow arranged in their appropriate rooms.

Then again, Shiro was the one who was in command of the moving operation, and even her brother couldn’t have trashed the place just opening up half a day’s worth of boxes.

Shiro was trying to get them hooked up to the flat’s private network as she entered, looking engrossed and slightly frustrated with the process, and Curtis was in the kitchen, unpacking plates and leftover food into the cupboards and fridge. On the counter, she could see her brother’s tea collection, including her own pot of instant chamomile.

“Hey, I made it,” she called out, heading into the kitchen; after the past few days, a cup of it wouldn't go amiss. “Can I steal one of your mugs?” she asked Curtis.

“Pidge!” he brightened, and ruffled through the box he was unpacking, handing her her own mug from her brother’s old flat. “Sure, here you go honey. Headache?” he asked, before poking his head around the door again. “Matt! Your sister’s here!”

“No, just been a strange week,” she sighed, tapping some of the powder into the mug and setting it beneath the one-cup boiler.

As she waited for the water, there was a distant clattering noise, which grew steadily louder and messier, until a mass of brown hair and panic darted from the hallway, pulling her into a hug she had little choice in tolerating.

“Thank the founders you're here!” her brother blurted, before dropping dramatically to his knees, arms wrapped imploringly around her waist, staring up with a pleading expression. “Please for the sake of my sanity, stop ignoring Mum and Dad when they call you!” be bemoaned. “I beg you dear sister, heed my cries, for I cannot live with the incessant pings anymore!’

“I–” she managed to pull her arm free as the boiler started to fill up the mug. “–lost my–” Then she managed to dislodge her brother’s vice-like arms from her back and step away. “–phone! What the hell Matt?”

“I should be asking you that,” Matt retorted, the brief balsam of relief fading to irritation. “Mum and Dad have been phoning you! I’ve been phoning you! All morning!”

“I just told you, I lost my phone,” Katie repeated, grabbing her now steaming mug of instant tea. “I’m guessing this is about last night?” she frowned.

Matt stared at her, then dragged his hands over his face. “You call me a disaster, but you’re just as bad, you know that? How the heck did you lose it? It’s going to take you months to get a new one!”

“I think I just left it at work,” Katie sighed, dropping her bag and coat over one of the sofas. “At least, I hope I did. Unless I dropped it somewhere last night, but I thought it was in my backpack.”

She really really hoped it was sitting in the lab, her office (she was never going to get tired of that) or the toilets where she’d changed. Maybe someone had handed it in to lost property. Anything, because Matt was right; getting a new phone would take months, and it was way more hassle than she wanted to deal with.

There was too much data synchronised and linked into them that would need physical, in-person verification at the person data encryption services office. All of her mail, her bills, her payroll numbers, medical history, academic profiles, even the ticket she got for speeding a little when she was eighteen.

All of it was connected to her phone, and getting that information rebooted into a brand new model without the new one present would be a nightmare. She dreaded to think how long it would take to get all the permissions and access codes from work reconfigured. She didn’t have all of them installed yet, but the idea of going up to HR and saying she lost her access passwords after two days of work was not appealing.

“Hmmm? ‘ _Last night_ ’ huh?” Matt waggled his eyebrows. “I was going to ask, but since you’ve saved me the trouble, do tell little sis; is he ten for ten, or ten for two?”

At first, Katie had to think about what the hell her brother was trying to ask; the she caught the teasing look, and it didn't really take much more thinking after that. “I have no idea!” she blurted, cheeks flaming. “It wasn’t like that! I was just filling in for his normal date, okay?” Katie sighed, blowing on the hot liquid and sipping. “His PA showed up when I was leaving for work and begged me to help, with peanut butter muffins as a bribe.”

She really should ask Lance how he’d found out where she lived, because while she was sure her address was in the company database, she was also sure ‘ _borrowing_ ’ it was not allowed. Not even for Keith’s PA.

“You’re literally living out the central plot line of one of your crappy romance ebooks right now, of course I’m going to tease you about it,” her brother shrugged. Then he raised an eyebrow. “If you were just filling in because you have an unhealthy weakness to peanut butter-based bribery, then why do you sound disappointed?”

“What?” she frowned, looking up as last member of the household entered, stepping into the room and heading for the boiler himself; Shiro ruffled her hair with his prosthetic arm, and she moved aside so he could reach the coffee cans.

“Hey Katie, glad you made it on one piece,” he smiled.

“Hi,” She grumbled. “I’m not. Why would I be?” she huffed, looking back at her brother. “There's nothing to tell,” she shrugged. “Lance bought me the clothes, I seriously underestimated a bunch of reporters, got to eat fancy food, and Keith took me home.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, glancing at Shiro and Curtis, who were having a small discussion of alternative opinions on where to put their preserved foods and condiments. He nodded, gesturing out of the room, and headed down the hallway. Picking up her mug, she followed him into the room that he had earmarked for his own.

Unlike the rest of the house, this was more like what she had expected. A bunch of junk Matt hadn’t managed to sell off was stuffed into a corner, and there were still boxes to be unpacked even as he packed three or four bags with equipment, data drives, clothes, and whatever else he was going to need on his next assignment.

Naxzella wasn’t too bad, but the idea of him being in Drazan made her nervous. The country was constantly at loggerheads with the Marmoran Republic Territories, and the Naxzellan independence debate made it a less than ideal time to be poking around in the are for journalism purposes.

“You really aren’t changing your mind, huh?” she asked, looking around, trying not to feel too downhearted about her brother’s incumbent departure.

“You’re as bad as Mum,” Matt muttered. “And Shiro. He won’t say it, but he’s scared too.”

“Considering he lost his arm just doing volcanology research on his last publicised expedition, I can’t say I’m surprised he’s worried about you and his boyfriend travelling to a country which this one has extremely precarious political relations with,” Katie grunted, sitting down on the bed and eyeing the clothes shoved into one of the cases with a wrinkled nose–they were creased to the nines and thrown in at random. “Is it really going to be safe Matt?”

Yup, this was definitely more like what she had expected. The absolute opposite of Keith’s immaculate, chilly, loft. Chaos contained within four walls, familiarity, and the assurance that only came from having a sibling.

“I told you, it’s just an environmental report,” he assured her, sitting down beside her. “Allura has her own assignment. She’s just tagging along; Curtis and I aren’t involved in anything political. No thanks,” he scoffed. “And nice try, but we were talking about you. If you really want a heart to heart, tell me the truth,” he said, effectively redirecting the topic. “I don’t want to fly out and worry about you being all mixed up over some rich guy.”

“I’m not mixed up,” she insisted; she wasn’t mixed up. She knew exactly what had been going on, and what hadn’t been going on. That had been very clear. Her problem was figuring out what was supposed to be going on. “…but maybe I had a little too much to drink and expected things I probably shouldn’t have,” she admitted.

Matt, for his part, didn’t seem angry, or upset. Just a little concerned, and when she flopped back to stare at the ceiling, he rolled onto his stomach, resting his chin on crossed arms. “What happened?” he asked calmly.

Katie closed her eyes. “Everything was just… tense. In a good way. We were pretty close together in the car, and… I just… got that vibe from him, you know?” Matt nodded, waiting for her to continue and she sighed. “I was so close to inviting him in when he dropped me off, but I didn’t, then…” she poked the spot on her cheek where Keith had kissed her at the last minute.

“He kissed you?”

“It’s not a big deal,” she sighed. “It was just because we’d been drinking. Maybe he was trying to be nice. He’s got some kind of reputation right? He probably didn’t think into it as much,” she shrugged, trying not to analyse just how much she sounded like a lovestruck teenager. “Really, I’m glad nothing else happened. Keith’s not even my boss, he’s the CEO. I can't afford to get involved in that kind of thing with him. Literally, considering he’s the one paying my wage.”

Matt pursed his lips. “How do you get into all this stuff?” he sighed. “To be honest, I’m not so worried about this Keith guy,” he said, surprising her with the admission. “He seems okay so far, if you put him in the perspective of where and what he comes from, and I know you’re not stupid,” he added, sitting up and starting a holoscreen on the household interface. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad that was all that happened.”

Katie frowned, sitting up too. “What do you mean?” she asked, watching as he tapped out on a keypad into the search bar on the screen, opening up a web page to what looked like the website of a gossip stream.

“You haven’t looked at any of this have you?” he asked.

Katie shook her head, and Matt scrolled a little down the page, clicking on one of the advertised stories through to a new page, where she was greeted with a picture of herself and Keith from the previous night as they headed out of the restaurant, his arm on her shoulder.

Then, she watched in a little horror as her own face popped up behind the scrolling announcement banners on the video and ‘CelebStream’ logos placed atop a video, which Matt scrolled further down the page to, the voice of the reporter and her own echoing around the room.

‘ _…Are you the girl from Club Xanthuria?_ ’  

‘ _If you already know, then why are you asking me? That question’s a little redundant, isn’t it?_ ’

‘ _Is that a confirmation that you slept together?!_ ’

For a moment, she had to stare as the tiny chunk of conversation replayed, a glower increasing on it with every second it spent in front of her. Finally she shut it off and turned back to her brother.

“Matt, that was a tiny piece of conversation,” she blinked.  “You're a reporter! You should know that's been edited for shock effect already!”

“Of course I know that,” Matt frowned. “That's exactly why I’m worried Katie,” he frowned. “I know _exactly_ what those vultures on those streams are going to do to twist your words and make you look like whatever suits them best, which right now, is some rich guy’s bit on the side” he said.

He clicked through another link from the first search, pulling up another article, this one emblazoned with a headline declaring that Keith was cheating on some singer with an escort.

“But I told them I wasn't an escort!” she blurted after going through the full article, and reading it from top to bottom with slowly increasing horror. “They can’t just make up stuff like that!”

“They're not making anything up though, that's how it works,” her brother told her, taking the phone again and finding another stream.

He rewound the clip, to the start, when the reporter had first called her over. Looking at her own terrified face, Katie couldn't help but think it was no wonder the mob had got the best of her. Even in the fancy, expensive clothes and heels, she still looked like prey.

‘ _...are you a stripper?_ ’

‘ _What? No!_ ’

“It was hard, but I found an unedited copy of the whole thing, and you never actually said no,” her brother said after playing the clip. “You just said you weren’t a stripper.”

Katie both understood the point her brother was making, wasn't completely surprised by it, and found herself appalled by the reality.

“These people will twist everything you say until it matches whatever agenda suits them best…” he said. “I've done it, admittedly not for a gossip column but the principle is still the same.”

“If you watched the whole thing then you know they just ambushed me,” she shot back. “Keith had to get me away from them.”

“Of course I know that,” he said. “I know you're none of those things, but I also know that you rush into everything headfirst, and considering what you just told me, you need to think about this Katie,” he said, his voice low and apologetic. “If you want to be involved with this guy in any aspect, you need be careful,” he pleaded. “I’ve already watched you get your name dragged through the mud at GalTech. I don't want to see that happen to you again. Especially not three thousand miles away.”

Katie found it hard to argue with Matt’s logic when he wasn’t joking around, and was using the part of his brain that had graduated him from university a year early. Then set him up with a semi-decent reporting job at an environmental, ecological, and social news stream.

“Please,” he said again. “I know you can look after yourself, but promise me you’ll be careful,” he pleaded.

“Matt, I’ll be fine,” she smiled, the concern a kindness in and of itself. “At the end of the day, he’s just a guy. I’m pretty sure I can handle that. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be careful, okay?”

“If you’re sure,” Matt said. “In that case can you do me another favour?”

“What?”

She yelped and had to put her hands up to catch a phone he tossed towards her, which was buzzing impatiently, a picture of her mother and Bae-Bae on the screen.

“Will you _please_ talk to our parents?!”  


* * *

 Iss. 9,965     Saturday 10th Oct 2037     ₲4.97

**FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE**

_Taujeerian Representatives Express Their Confidence in Current Contract Developments at Hawkinovate Inc._

* * *

Many bated breaths were released yesterday when, following a visit to Hawkinovate Inc HQ, Taujeerian emergency service representatives Kamlia and Baujal Cummings spoke confidently of the work being continued by the company, despite the extended deadline.

[ _Photo inset of Keith Hawkins and Kamlia Cummings outside the Vermillion Building_ ]

Mrs. Cummings and her husband flew in from Taujeeria early yesterday morning for a meeting with company CEO, Keith Hawkins, as part of a follow up after the deadline extension on the emergency tech development projects last week. The meeting covered complete and full updates on all developments within the projects, including the one which was pulled from production prior to last weeks announcement, Mrs. Cummings confirmed in a interview before her return to Taujeeria that it was the only part of the project behind schedule.

‘ _I haven’t seen it in person, but Mr. Hawkins has been very honest in our dealings, and he and Mr. Vosloo, Head of Samasama were very accommodating in showing me the flaws and explaining the reasons behind the redesign in person, and I’m glad the extension was requested,_ ’ she said. ‘ _Had I been responsible for something of this size, I would have made the same decision. Everything else has been wonderful to see, and I know these innovations will make a difference to Taujeeria’s emergency relief workers, and those world over, once they’re in public sector production._ ’

[ _Video Link_ ]

When asked what the redesigns would be, Mrs Cummings admitted she had not seen the designs or plans as yet. ‘ _My husband has spoken to the scientist taking on the project, and his judgement tells me that things are still promising. I’m looking forward to seeing the main plans in the next few weeks._ ’

The news comes as fast relief and a win for Keith Hawkins, who has been faced with doubts since his inauguration as CEO in his attempts to redirect the family company back to its roots, and reestablish its reputation as a reliable employer.

Doubts were voiced immediately following his announcement of the delays to the Taujeerian Seismology Project, despite hopeful supporters lauding the decision as mature accountability and a sign of better things to come under the new management.

The response from Kamlia and Baujal Cummings is a win not just for the company, but against critics who believed the set back may cost the company its first major investment project in years.

It has been just over four years since Mr. Hawkins took his father’s former position, inheriting both his parents shares, and while the first couple of years were calm and quiet, now that he’s found his feet, it will be interesting to see just how Hawkinovate Inc grows under its second generation of family leadership.

 _Article by Remdax Millsap. Photography © Vakala Moy-Lars._  

* * *

 **Mass Production and Public Consumption:** An in-depth look at the issues in the datapad design, and options going forward for Hawkinovate Inc to recoup losses on the flawed technology.

 **Potential new investments in Hawkinovate’s future:** Olkarian tech queen Ryner Stirling sounds an interest in working together for future software developments.

 **Upcoming Projects from Lab E:** The latest news from Hawkinovate's only public lab suggest something of a medical tone to come from a private shareholder.

* * *

Huge thank yous to Aknazer and KDXArt as always for helping to wrangle the words. 

Keith's clothes:[jacket](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/club_monaco/stretch-denim-trucker-jacket/1126492?ppv=2), [t-shirt](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/ymc/slim-fit-slub-cotton-jersey-t-shirt/1120287?ppv=2), [trousers](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/99is/gobchang-stretch-shell-drawstring-trousers/1156097?ppv=2),[ shoes](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/converse/chuck-70-canvas-high-top-sneakers/1104517). 


	13. Days When I'm Losing

Sunday morning arrived far too early for Katie’s liking.

Her brother and Curtis caught their flight to Drazan at four am, and they were met at the airport by a bleary looking woman with enviable Altean platinum white hair in a messy bun and pink coming-of-age tattoos, who guzzled her coffee like her life depended on it, her own photographer looking equally dead beside her.

Katie had met her a few times through Romelle–her cousin–and Matt, after he joined the same newspaper where they both still worked. She was nice, very driven, and never paused to sit still. The kind of person who always had to be doing something.

After the brief reunion with Allura, and their goodbyes to Matt and Curtis, she and Shiro found themselves heading back to her apartment. It would have been nice to spend another day with Shiro–it had been ages since she had seen him too–but she had work the next day, and the flat was too far from the labs for her to make it on the morning monorail in time.

So, she found herself back home, trying to get her tiny one-room apartment hooked up to the company network. It didn’t take her as long as she had expected to get into the building hardware and tweak the nanoboards so that they had additional external interface support, but it took longer than she would have liked.

By the time she was done, and starting the reboot on her flat’s interface, the sun had been down for hours. It was worth it when the Hawkinovate logo showed up when she started the secondary screens after the reboot though. Then she just had to go through the monotonous process of the ID checks. Voice, chip scans, and thumbprint checks were thankfully all present and accounted for, and after reboot, and startup, she yelped in victory when her work computer files showed up.

Taking a break before she started to look at the digital modelling on her little robot (which she had nickname ‘ _ Rover _ ’ in the files), she opened up a soup packet into a pan, heating it up on her single ring cook-top as she pulled on her pyjamas, before pouring it out into a bowl and retreating to her bed for the night. She wasn’t planning on sleeping yet, but she might as well be comfy.

As she ate, she settled for the grim task of checking on her finances. There was always something that didn’t get paid, and she would need to know which so she could make it a priority when the next payday came around. She had another eighteen days before her first wage from Hawkinovate would come in, so hopefully she would have enough to cover most of them this month.

She fingered her hair, which had grown out to just brushing her shoulders now. Maybe she shouldn’t have bought the lengthening treatments, but considering the company she now worked for heavily supported public disclosure on its work, it was going to be better for her in the long run (and that wasn’t even counting recent events as anything to go by)

It also looked a million times better for not being cut by her own inept hand, but still. She could probably have put the money that came as an extra part of her wage from Xanthuria towards something else. She was already dreading the numbers. 

Logging into her ID account, she took a mouthful of the soup, poking at it mournfully with her spoon, trying to pretend it was the amazing stew from the dinner (or at least not instant food). Then she looked up when the confirmation sound told her she had been entered onto her personal account, quickly looked up her banking.

* * *

**National Bank of Olkaria  
** Keeping your Credit Secure for over 270 years.

Login  | Personal Account Options | Mortgages | Loans | Insurance | Card Types | Business Banking

[ _ ID Confirmed _ ] **  
** **Katie Holt**

**Your Accounts**   
Payments & Transfers | Direct Debits | Overdrafts | Account Services | Personal Details

**X | Y | Z Interest Account** **  
** **Currency Settings:**  GAC –  _ Global Approved Currency _ [ ₲ ]

You have earned a total of **173.26** to date in credits off of your regular expenses by choosing this account **.**

**Account Statement**

**Date** **Description** **Money In** **Money Out**                    **Balance**

            Sunday                                                                                                                                    _-13.21_ _  
_04.10.2037

            Monday                   _Tip Jar from work_                       _+574.97_                                                   _561.76_  
            05.10.2037

            Wednesday      Dradin Hair Salon                                                          - _163.19_                       _398.57_  
            07.10.2037     GrwthTrtmts

 _Sunday_ _Club Xanthuria–Basic Wage_               _+1,220.40_                                                _1,618.97_ _  
_11.10.2037     _(10.17 p/h)_

 _Sunday_ _Club Xanthuria–OT Wage_                     _+321.28_                                               _1,940.25_ _  
_11.10.2037     _(16.06 p/h)_

 _Sunday_ _Club Xanthuria–Commis_                 _+2,914.80_                                               _4,855.05_ _  
_11.10.2037     _bonus_

            Monday _733PiantaRise_                                                              _-600.00_                     _4,255.05_ _  
_12.10.2037       _(Rent)_

            Monday _BAKU-Corp Home Energy_                                              _-160.00_                     _4,095.05_ _  
_12.10.2037

            Monday _I_ _nterface Tax_                                                                   _-27.98_                     _4,067.07_ _  
_12.10.2037

            Monday _Network Tax_                                                                    _-31.72_                     _4,035.35_ _  
_12.10.2037

            Monday _Residence Tax_                                                                  _-98.54_                     _3,936.81_ _  
_12.10.2037

            Monday _National Insurance_ _-31.48_ _3,905.48_ _  
_12.10.2037

            Monday _Bank of Olkaria_ _-178.00_ _3,727.33_ _  
_12.10.2037 (GarrittU Loan)

            Monday _Galra Institute of Technology_ _-145.00_ _3,582.33_ _  
_12.10.2037        (Scholarship Repayment)

 

**Current Balance: 3,582.33**

* * *

 

One look at the screen had Katie choking on her mouthful of bean-and-chicken-broth from shock, dismay, and incredible confusion..

Not only had her outgoing direct debits for her college loan and debt repayments gone through, but all of them had gone out, as expected, and her rent, energy bill, taxes, and national insurance had all been paid alongside them!

Normally one of them would be returned due to a direct debit failure thanks to a lack of credits, and yet, according to her payment history, she  _ still _ had money left over! The last time she’d had money left over from anything had been during her last year at GalTech, just before the shit storm that had forced her to cut the programme and transfer to GarrittU. It had never been more than a few hundred though.

Katie was certain she was hallucinating the figures currently displayed on the holoscreen;  _ three thousand five hundred GAC? _ She knew some of that would have been for whatever she was still due by her contract at the club, and tips, but that was insane! Her wage had never been that high! And what in founders’ name had she earned  _ two thousand two hundred and twenty GAC _ in commission on?

She needed to phone Luxia; the last thing she needed was someone knocking on her door for fraud or something because there was an obvious mix up with her wages.... There was a problem there though, and the realisation sapped whatever remaining appetite she’d had for her soup. Dumping the bowl on her bedside table, she flopped huffily back against her pillows.

She couldn't phone Luxia, because she had  _ lost _ her damned phone! That was why she’d had Matt’s thrown at her yesterday evening. 

The call had been gruelling between the reprimands to say the least, and it had ended with her mother’s lecture on losing something so valuable and ‘ _ ripe for data trafficking in the wrong hands! _ ’, followed by insistent requests for daily emails or videocalls, which… 

Well, there was no way Katie was videocalling her parents every day. Even her dad snorted at that demand before he asked, more calmly, that she at least try to keep them more updated, and finally, between the urges for caution, they had said their goodbyes.

Staring at her robot plans, her enthusiasm gone with the worry of money mismanagement taking root where energy and inspiration had been driving her before, she looked at the time and sighed. It was already eleven pm. Even if she could phone the club, they would probably be too busy this time of night to hear the phone.

Not to mention she needed to sleep if she wanted to be up in time for work the next morning. She wanted to be as early as she could so she could look around for her damned phone. It was a piece of modded junk, but Matt and her mum were right; she was kinda up shit creek without it.

Rolling over she sighed, and called out a few shutdown commands to the interface, setting her alarm before the lights and screens slowly began to fade, and she let herself drift off.

* * *

Tuesday was supposed to be a good-weather sort of day, but at six am it was hard to tell what was going to happen later on.

The plane was in the air much sooner than Keith would have liked, but at least visiting the airport with his uncle gave him an extra couple of hours of nap time in the back of the car before he went into the office. Even Lance wasn’t there, thanks to the early timing.

As such, with his uncle off to Lubos City, Olkaria for the Kraydah Conference, the car was extremely peaceful on the return journey to the Vermillion Building in Central Garritt. The wheels rolled silently along the motorway, heading round to the central district on a bypass, and he stared out at the view of the city as Iverson’s careful, but efficient driving took them in closer and closer.

First he’d just admired the view, then his eyes had strayed out over the area, first from the familiar building that served as the epicentre of his family’s technology legacy (even four years in, it still felt strange knowing that he worked there). Though far from the biggest or most important building in the city, the fluted shape and strange space it occupied separated it from the other buildings, and as a result it couldn’t help but draw the eye from a distance. 

Turning his eyes away, he gazed along the skyscraper studded horizon towards the other districts, where the buildings were lower, closer to the natural, protected greenery of the suburbs like Samasama, or the housing areas on the edge of the river that ran through the city.

Beyond that, on the other side of the city and further, towards the northern border was Uisgemul, a new energy development programme based in hydro and thermal energy. Most of the facility was based in a recently purchased former hydropower dam which had been up for sale from a power company who had gone bankrupt. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about the stress upcoming preparations were going to cause, rather, the motivation behind the plans.

With some help from another affiliate–BAKU Corp–they were taking over the dam and starting a bigger investment in energy tech. They had worked in it before, but not to this extent, and it would be a big launch. The meetings with Gal and Lowes were going to be heavy and long for the next few weeks leading up to it, and it was only one half of the project.

After that, the second half, which would be working with a Taujeerian thermal energy company, who made use of the country’s prolific volcanic activity as a clean energy source, would begin. It was another project that would take the better half of several months to implement, and probably be consuming most of his time. The planning arrangements were already proving to be a headache.

It was something Keith hoped his parents would have supported. His father’s nanotech and mother’s implementation of it into the medical field had done a lot to change technology, but it had been for public use. It had never been privatised. Their nano-scalpel had first been introduced to the national health programme, not private industry or private healthcare companies.

It had always been a main focus, as the technology gained momentum, and began to take off, that it was always to be implemented in ways that benefited everyone. Not for profit or military use, baring the medical launches, which had been permitted for use by army medics and hospitals. Alongside the project with the Taujeerians, the potential development with the arm, the other private projects in Hunk’s lab, and Lab E’s private programme, it was hopefully going to be enough to put the company back on its original path. 

Thirteen years was a long time for it to stray, no thanks to Zarkon, but Keith was determined to restore the reputation of what remained of his parent’s legacy. Kolivan’s departure to the conference couldn’t help but make him wonder if it was what they would have wanted.

Half the time Keith still didn’t know if he was doing the right thing, and with Kolivan’s retirement looming over his head, the time without the final safety net amongst the board that he provided was fast approaching. 

His parents had been some of the best people in the world. They’d changed peoples lives with what they had built, mostly for the better, and the prospect of trying to live up to that benchmark was going to be a slow process. Keith couldn’t help but imagine his parents would have told him he didn’t need to, but he knew that without Kolivan there to provide his current sources of backup and support, he needed to do something.

He’d been sure before, but after the accident, it had been the only thing Keith was certain of: that he’d take over and rebuild his parent’s company and legacy, their reputation where they had left off. Still was. He just couldn’t help wondering if they would have been happy with his choices, and his choices with the company. 

His father had always told him not to focus on business if it wasn’t what he wanted, that he was under no obligation to take any role in the company unless he wanted it, and his mother had tried six ways to Sunday to get him to take on extra-curricular activities at school, and during the long weekends and holidays she all but threw him out of the house if she caught him watching the Hawkinovate news streams.

Like the days before the accident.

The last day before they had left had started in-between packing and breakfast. He’d been at home for the October holidays, and the lead up to his fourteenth birthday.

His mother had been yelling up the stairs for him to come eat, and after a reluctant cling to his pillow, he’d finally stumbled down the stairs, yawning and sleepy-eyed from late night searches on everything his parents were doing the media, and the live lab streams from Samasama.

‘ _ Keith, what have I told you about late night streaming? _ ’ His mother had demanded as he sat down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, the smell of Illun’s spicy chilled soybean sprout soup lingering in the air as she flicked through a holoscreen display of flight times.

Keith flinched from his mother’s words, taking one of the empty bowls sitting on the countertop and ladling out some of the soup from the vat in the middle, Illun dropping off some sides and rice. “It wasn’t that late!” He protested. “I swear! I just wanted to watch the end of your group project in Lab B!”

“So if I go into your browsing history, will I find it before or after 12pm?” His mother asked, raising an eyebrow beyond the screen as Keith paused in reach for his chopsticks.

He bit his lip, then grabbed the chopsticks and started eating some of the pickled spinach and green beans with his rice. 

“ _ Keith… _ ”

“Okay, it was after!” He blurted. “But I swear I turned it off when it was done!”

“You were watching the streams  _ again?  _ Keith! You know you’re not supposed to be up that late!” 

His father joined him, brown hair still damp from his shower, tie loose ready for fastening around his neck. The man fixed an earpiece into his ear as he sat down, pulling his own bowl and side towards him with some appreciative words to Illun, who waved them off and set a large bowl of steamed eggs down.

“It was just one! I just wanted to finish the end, and I didn’t start a new one!” Keith insisted. “It's not like I’m at school either,” he muttered picking at his rice.

“Keith, you’ve been told about this,” his father frowned, piling up a bowl of the soup and handing it to his mother. “Here love.” He turned the frown back on him. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re at school or not, you know the rules; no holoscreens after eleven.”

“You’re too young to be staying up that late,” his mother said–for the fifth time in two days it felt like–taking the bowl and shutting down her holoscreen. “We don’t mind you being interested in the company, or watching the lab streams during the day, but you need to get out and do other things too. And go to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“I’m going to martial arts and football aren’t I?” He grumbled, making a face as Illun set down a few helpings of soy-stewed beans and sweet and sour radish. Instead of going for the additions, Keith reached a hand out towards the soup ladle. “What’s wrong with watching the lab streams?”

“There’s more to life than lab streams Keith,” his father sighed. “Don’t fill up on soup, eat your side dishes,” he added, nudging the soybeans towards him, before his father tucked into his own selections.

Keith wrinkled his nose, but did as he was told, chewing reluctantly on the beans. They weren’t too bad with the eggs, he just didn’t like the texture after they’d been stewed by themselves. That, and it wasn’t worth it to get into even more trouble after he’d already been found out for binge watching the labs again.

“Have you thought about what classes you want to take for next year yet?” His mother asked. “The emails from your teachers have been good. Mr. Ahn said you aced your Galran and Maths prelims.”

“My form tutor said they’d send out selection forms during the parent week after the holidays,” Keith shrugged, looking up from his food. “She said the office staff would send you a data dump with the dates.”

“I got them last week; Uncle Kolivan will be handling things at work for that week so that we can both fly out for it,” his mother assured him. “You really don’t have anything in mind besides Altean and Maths yet?”

“Galran, and Business Admin and Management,” Keith said, ignoring his mother’s eyeball and instead watching across the table as Iverson entered through the hallway, and approached his father. “I dunno about history or geography yet. Peribaldi is probably going to focus on Altean stuff, and I’m not sure about sciences, or if I need sociology.”

“You don’t want to take P.E. then?” His dad asked. “I thought you liked sports?”

Keith made a face. “I’m in the clubs, and there’ll still be mandatory classes anyway. I don’t  _ need _ it.”

“I know, but you should have at least one class that you just enj– Oh, Iverson? Did you hear back from the airport?”

“ _ Mr. Hawkins? _ ” 

“Yes Mr. Hawkins,” their driver nodded. “The jet is ready to leave within the hour, so we will be able to leave at your leisure.”

“Alright, if everything’s packed we should be good to leave after breakfast,” his father agreed.

“Yes sir.”

“ _ Sir? _ ”

Keith did his best not to slump, though not quite managing it, as he remembered the week long conference that was coming up. He knew they would be back, and before his birthday at the end of the holidays, but still. A whole week in the house by himself with just uncle Kolivan sounded boring.

“Don’t slouch in your chair like that, Keith,” his mother sighed. “You’ll ruin your back!”

“ _ Keith? _ ”

Keith jerked at the sound of his name, staring around at the interior of the car, trying to work out what was going on; his eyes settled on Iverson, who was watching him from the driver’s seat with a calm concern that came from years of familiarity.

“You fell asleep lad,” the man said, his tone softened from its usual sharper, polite phrasing. “We’re here.”

Keith stared out at the window, looking up from the doors of the Vermillion building over each floor, past the two twists that combined to form the executive offices and business lounge at the top of the spire. Then he looked at his phone, over twenty notifications, at least ten more emails, and a bunch of missed calls.

Lance was standing at the doorway to the building, chattering away into his earpiece, or maybe to Ven’tar, who was also there. Dimly, Keith remembered that today was their crossover week, when they both worked on certain days. Usually that meant things were twice as productive.

“You okay kid?” Iverson asked. “You haven’t slept in the car like that for a few years now.”

Keith let out a breath. “I’m fine,” he said, fixing some of the wrinkles from his suit and picking up his data pad from the seat it had been tossed on. “Just didn’t sleep too well last night; I’ll probably be working late today, so if you want to go home and catch some sleep or something go ahead.”

“Try not to,” the man advised. “If you need me earlier than planned, have Lance let me know.”

Keith gave him a wry smile, then opened the door and stepped out of the car, heading towards Lance and Ven’tar for whatever morning updates and plans awaited. 

* * *

Despite her plans to hunt down her phone Monday morning, Katie never found the chance to enact them.

A drop in the network meant the monorail had a short delay, but one long enough that it meant she only just got through the barriers of the main hallway in time to get on the clock. After that she'd been busy. Distracted. Both really; the robots and datapads and code breaking didn’t sound like a lot, but it kept her distracted near enough into overtime.

Doing work that she'd trained and worked for again was like a legal high or that first sip of a good drink after a long day. She didn't even realise it was lunchtime on Monday until Hunk prompted her to eat something, and even then she'd been making headway on the codes for the ‘ _ Voltron Project _ ’ as was the apparent secret code name for the arm project.

At least, according to Lance it was. She’s spotted him in the hallways on Monday, though looking more casual than he did when he had been following Keith around in skinny jeans and some stylish costs-too-much oversized t-shirt. He claimed he was checking on the progress of Lab E’s private investors project for Keith (who was apparently stuck in the office with a HR dispute, and so unable to check himself). She was starting to wonder if he ever had a day off, or even wanted one.

Tuesday, proved to be a better day however. Nadia had found out about her phone mishap and agreed to help her look for it on their lunch, and while they searched the halls, Nadia supplied her with news via Ina (Ina Leifsdottir? From GalTech? She’d have to double check) from Lab A about how Lotor had been throwing a wobbly since Monday morning because of all the paperwork he now had to do, and the loss of his project.

“Isn’t Ina worried about it? She was working on the project too wasn’t she?” Katie asked as they left the toilets where she had changed.

“No. I think it was supposed to be a group one, but Rabe-Summer took it over and left the other lab techs to their own devices. Ina ended up using her GalTech dissertation project as a base for some goggles or something, kinda like what you’re doing with your Rover-bots,” Nadia assured her. “She can’t stand him as a lead. She’s wanted to switch labs since she started.”

“So why hasn’t she?”

“Lab A’s salary is higher, since they’re supposed to be the ones who get all the main heavy duty contracts from investments,” Nadia shrugged. “Not that they’ve been doing that, as we all know... okay, so which way did you go after this?”

They were now standing in a hallway that looked much the same as the rest of them, and Katie twitched. “Er… I was heading round to the back car park? Or trying to? I was looking more at the map on my phone than where I was going,” She admitted sheepishly. “Then I bumped into king dickhead and after that I kinda knew where I was, so I didn’t need to look at it again…”

Nadia pursed her lips, looking around at the hallways. “That sounds like he was using the shortcut between the server rooms that leads to Keith and Ulaz’s offices,” she mused. “I think I know where it comes out at the back, this way!” she added, rushing off making a gesture for Katie to follow with her arm.

Nadia led her through the halls a little further, to yet another crossroads in the corridors that looked exactly the same as all the others before it, but for the windows looking out onto the car park. “I think this looks familiar,” Katie mumbled, looking around. 

Turning her eyes around, there wasn’t much in the hallway, in fact, there was nothing but a few decorative prints of tech designs produced in the past on the walls. There were no plants or anything like sculptures or seats in this hallway for a phone to get lost behind, and with nothing present, Katie’s hopes of avoiding person data encryption services were falling dramatically.

“Have you checked the service desk yet?” Nadia asked. “A lot of lost property gets handed in there.”

Katie sighed. “Not yet. We could go up and ask and get something from the cafe? It is our lunch break after all,”

Nadia beamed.

The foyer of Samasama was bustling with people when they arrived, either talking over datapads and small holoscreens projected from their IDs, or sitting in the cafe, or on some of the lounge sofas at reception, food trays in hand. After a bowl of stir-fry noodles and veg and some water from the cafe, Katie left Nadia to her chicken-egg-fried-rice, and headed over to the service desk.

A few people stared at her as she approached the desk, but she shook it off, focused on her quest for her lost phone. The receptionist was the same man who had been at the desk when Keith first booked her visitors chip for the interview with Hunk, and his eyes widened in recognition when she stepped up. 

“Miss Holt, can I help with something?”

“I lost my phone here on Friday evening, I’ve checked the halls, retraced my steps, the labs, everywhere, and there’s no sign of it,” she said. “Nadia told me you get lost property here; I don’t suppose anyone has handed it in at all?”

“I have a few at the moment,” the man nodded, his name tag identifying him as ‘ _ Beezer _ ’. “Can you tell me the model?”

“It’s a Crydor 3-V,” she said. “It’s been modded a lot, so the back panel is green carbon fibre instead of black.”

Beezer nodded, looking around in the storage compartments of his desk which formed the shelf Katie was leaning on, trying not to be as anxious as she felt. Eventually her pulled out the familiar casing, his face apologetic. “This looks like it but…”

He handed it over and her heart sank. The whole thing was crushed. The screen was cracked and parts of the internal mechanisms were broken. Even the panel was chipped and cracked to sharp edges. She managed to find the internal registration code, and quickly scanned it against her work ID chip. 

The holoscreen it generated pinged cheerfully in confirmation. 

Katie had to suppress her scream of frustration at the happy sound, and the commiserating look of pity Beezer was giving her. 

On top of everything else, she needed a new phone too? She felt like crying. The second she reported it to the PDE services office, she was going to be all but locked out of her own ID account, and it was going to take months to get everything verified before she would have it reinstated!

Then again, she could only do that with a new handset, and there was no way she could afford a new phone.  The destroyed private model had been her graduation present when she finished high school. It had been tweaked, had parts replaced, screen modifiers added, and so much backup software installed that it was hardly even a Crydor 3-V anymore, but it had been perfect.

She might be able to find an old junk model, but she doubted it. The new private models would easily cost over five thousand GAC. Even with her unusual bank account inflation she didn’t have enough, and when her wage started coming in from the labs it was still going to take months to save up enough to get one

There was always government standard ones, which were fine, but just wouldn’t be able to cope with the requirements she’d need for work, and their processors were terrible. Not to mention she wouldn’t be able to mod one without getting herself a fine (which she also couldn’t afford).

“I’m so sorry,” Beezer said, his empathy genuine. “Mine packed it in last year and I’m still paying back the loan from the bank for the new one. I don’t know if it helps, but head office have a private loan system for employees? It’s got a better interest and repayment rate than the banks do. If mine had died a week later I would have taken that instead, but they didn’t restart it till after I got the job.”

Katie perked up a little, tearing her eyes from the pile of mechanical dross. “Really? What’s the base payment?”

“It depends, you can negotiate it back and forth depending on what your salary is, but the interest rate is at a standard seven point seven percent APR. It goes up for housing and transport loans, but for anything below ten thousand GAC, it stays at a flat rate.”

Katie’s jaw dropped. “Seven point seven?” she checked. “Seriously?”

Beezer nodded. “I’m sure.” He said confidently. “You’d have to go up to the head offices to arrange one, but all the information is on the employee section of the website.”

Feeling slightly more hopeful, Katie thanked him, and returned to the table where Nadia was watching and waiting curiosity on her face.

* * *

“Dude, when in the name of sanity are you going home?” Lance demanded.

Keith looked up from the holoscreen full of emails he was glazing his eyes with, and raised an eyebrow. 

The lights of the holoscreens and the dim ceiling lights cast a dull, lilac glow through the room, only brightened by the circulation of photos on the wall holoscreens. Behind him, the windows looking down onto the city were bright and glowing against the dark October sky, their brightness reflecting on the low bank of clouds that had rolled in and parked overhead earlier in the day.

“When I’m done for the day?” he said. “I have a backlog to get through,” he shrugged, “and I need to talk to Antok and Sampson about an investigation into Lab A; I want to get that set up sooner rather than later.”

“Keith, its nearly nine ‘o’ clock,” Lance sighed, coming around the desk and sitting down facing the back of another chair he dragged with him. “You can’t set up the investigation entirely by email when Ranveig and Antok have already gone home, like everyone except the cleaners.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I know that,” he said. “But I can at the very least draft an outline for them to go over and put their own suggestions into; that way we at least have a starting point,” he said. “Then there's the meeting tomorrow with Mr. Shirogane, and I want to go over the updates on the project from Hunk so that I can answer his questions properly, and the new check-ins with Lowes and Gal for Uisgemul. I haven’t seen much of the updates thanks to the meeting last week going over schedule, and with all the prep with Uncle Kolivan for the Krayd–”

“Keith, why did you ask me to work here?”

Keith started at the sudden interruption, emails forgotten as he tried to wrap his brain around the question. He didn’t find an explanation for it by himself. “What?” he blinked. “Why…?” he frowned, trying to think. “Because you have a good head for business, know how to handle people politics, and understand the medical science in the labs in Moegorm and Samasama? And you didn’t want to fall back on your family’s influence?” he guessed.

“Yes, yes,” Lance waved his hands in the air. “Those are all good answers, true too, but you know that’s not what I meant,” he sighed, crossing his arms on the back of the chair. “What did you ask me after you broke up with Seok?”

Keith frowned, trying to remember. He’d probably drunk too much after that fire-blooded and furious argument before Lance arrived. He did remember talking to him, and knew that was when he had asked Lance to help him, but the exact words? Now that was a challenge Keith wasn’t sure he could live up to.

“You asked me to help you, because you trusted me,” Lance said, and Keith internally cringed, knowing what was coming next. “You’re my best mate, and as your best mate, I am telling you, if don’t go home at a reasonable time like every other human in the building, you’re going to work yourself sick,” he continued. “I know you don’t really want to, and I get it–Iverson told me you didn’t sleep well…”

Keith’s tensed. He’d forgotten about that stint this morning in the car. Sometimes having good employees came back to bite him. He’d probably be grateful for it in the long run, but right now it was irritation. He could look after himself. It was just sleep. He’d catch it up.

“…but you can’t just live in your office Keith.”

Keith deliberately avoided the gaze Lance was sending in his direction. He was right. Keith knew he was. He still didn’t want to admit anything out loud though. It was stupid. He didn’t even live with his Uncle anymore in the first place, so why should it bother him that he’d be out of the country for the week?

Keith was pretty sure he wasn’t so unlucky that Kolivan would be hit by a car in Lubos City too. He didn’t want to try guess what the chances of that were, but he didn’t expect that they would be high. Zarkon and the other board members, on the other hand, were a different matter.

Even if his Uncle wasn’t always at the meetings–something more and more frequent as of late–he’d still been in the building, or been at the end of a video call for advice. He was just nervous about being really left to his own judgement when it came to handling the other board members.

“Put it this way,” Lance said, probably guessing what he was thinking somehow. “You’re more likely to mess up in front of Tomita and Gal if you aren’t getting proper rest. If you wanna work at home, go ahead, I can’t stop you, but at least go home Keith, please.”

There is was.

Keith slumped back in his chair, staring at the half finished plan for the lab investigation, then hit the save button, and shut down the rest of the screens, before finally looking back at Lance. “There,” he said. “Happy?”

“It’ll do for now,” Lance said, getting to his feet and rolling his hand in a ‘ _ move _ ’ gesture. “Come on. Iverson is already waiting.”

Knowing he was already evicted from his own office, Keith followed him from the room, the glow of the holoscreens and lights fading off as the door slid closed behind him.

* * *

 

The club hadn’t quite opened up for the night when Katie finally made it through the queue and up to the door. Rax’s eyes widened when he spotted her about halfway down the line, and came through to let her up.

“You’ve been busy Holt,” he grinned. “Good to see you’re still alive though. How are you holding up?” he asked, taking her up to the door amongst massive complaints from the other people queuing.

“It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, but aside from my phone getting destroyed, it’s been okay,” she sighed. 

“Your phone? What happened to it?”

Katie wished she hand an answer, but unfortunately she didn't. Someone had left the broken hardware at Beezer’s desk without signing it in with their ID chip. It had just been sitting there when he’d arrived Monday morning, or so the receptionist had told her when she asked on her way out of the building.

It was weird, and she definitely needed to look at the wreckage more closely, but right now her worry was the inaccuracies in her wage.

“I wish I knew,” she sighed. “How are you and Shay doing?”

“We are both well,” Rax nodded, opening the door for her. “She got a litter of waterdog puppies from an illegal breeder yesterday that she’ll be trying to find homes for, so don’t be surprised if she sends you pictures,” he added.

Katie couldn’t help laughing. “There’s no way I can have a waterdog, but they’d be cute to look at,” she grinned. “See you about Rax, and thanks.”

“No problem,” he nodded. The door closed behind her once she had stepped through it into the main hall itself. Making a beeline for the bar, it didn’t take her long to find Tavo and get his attention. Once she’d mentioned Luxia, he lifted up the counter for her and she made her way down to the office.

Walking down the steps felt surreal. She had come back from a dead end interview to an inescapable future of mixing drinks for a living the night she made a whiskey sour for the rich guy at the end of the bar. She'd only been working for a few days at Samasama, but it felt like months already, and it was almost unsettling how easily she had adapted to it. How did her life change so quickly?

Luxia was sitting at her desk, tapping furiously at her keyboard, multicoloured hair falling over her eyes as she peered at the holoscreen when Katie knocked on the door; she jumped at the noise, swirling in her desk chair in confusion before her expression filled instead with recognition. 

“Katie!” She beamed, pushing back the chair and getting to her feet. “What are you doing here?” She asked, giving her a quick greeting hug. “Is everything okay hon? New job okay?”

“It’s great,” Katie breathed. “Really, I owe you for selling me to some random rich guy for the night,” she joked. “To be honest, I still feel like I'm dreaming. I dunno if it's completely settled in yet.”

Luxia smiled in relief, pulling a chair towards the desk for her as she returned to her own. “I'm glad to hear that,” she said. “Though it was a little strange seeing you on Nyma’s gossip stream subscriptions during her break last week.”

Katie made a face. “Yeah that's a whole other mess,” she sighed. “But I promise I'm fine. There is something I need to double check with you though; it's about my last wage.”

Her old manager’s eyes widened. “Was there a mix up? It's gone through hasn't it? Payday was day before yesterday, so you should have got your last one through.”

“It came through alright,” Katie nodded. “But I checked it at home that evening and something must have gone wrong because it was over three thousand GAC, closer to four. And that was after all my bills and re-payments and taxes went out! I think there was a commission payment sent my way by accident.”

Luxia cocked her head at her, frowning for a moment. “I double checked it myself hon,” she said. “You had your standard wage plus the extra shifts you pulled before you went to that crappy interview,” she said - Katie nodded to show she was keeping up. “Then your tips, and the difference from what rich boy paid to borrow you for the night. Not to mention you get commission from that fifty year bottle of Vox.”

“Wait, what?” Katie blinked. 

“You forgot you got a share from high alcohol sales, didn't you?” Luxia asked. “You got fifteen percent.”

“No, not that, I remembered that–” She hadn't remembered that at all, but fifteen percent of four-grand still wasn’t over two thousand. “–but… Wait, what difference? How much did he even pay? Shouldn't you be keeping it since I fucked off for a job interview in the middle of my shift?”

Luxia smiled again. “I already took that cut from it. When he paid, he didn't want to mess around  with ‘ _ small figures _ ’ as he put it, so it was rounded up to about five thousand GAC. Apparently less than that, and it messed up with the averages?” she shrugged. “I don’t know, it sounds ridiculous to me too, but that was his reasoning.”

_ Five…? _ Katie stared at Luxia, looking for any traces of a lie on her face as she tried to absorb the number that had just been presented to her.

In fact, she stopped the thoughts. If she focused too much on what Keith related as ‘ _ small figures _ ’, she would probably give herself a stroke trying to work out how a person with more money than they knew what to do with perceived finance and expenses. 

“I took two-seven-twenty for the loss in manpower and profits,” she continued. “Including what was needed to make up your wage, and a little bit for Ezor for covering the bar, but as far as I'm concerned the rest of it was yours. Mr. Hawkins paid to cover your loss in wages, and it covered it. The fact that it was way more than what would have done that is irrelevant.  It should have been about two and a half, and six hundred for the whiskey so…. about three thousand? I put it all through as commission” she frowned. “Want me to double check on the wage report?”

Katie was calculating numbers in her head, trying to work it all out, but she was kind of shocked. She'd never had that much money just sitting in her bank account, so she had assumed it was an error, but according to Luxia, it was hers? How could that be right?

“No, it’s fine… I just thought it was a mistake and thought I’d better tell you before someone came banging at my door over it or something,” she replied, dazed.

She was trying with all her mental capacity to process what Luxia had just told her, trying to comprehend the sudden flush in her bank account; it was enough money to give her anxiety, and she had absolutely no idea what to do with it. 

Had Keith really thought it was worth that much money just to give her a job interview? She was starting to wonder what was so special about the lab project Keith had drafted her for. It had to be significant somehow, surely? Now that she thought about it again, it was strangely secretive. Was it normal for this amount of privacy to be kept on projects at the labs? She’d have to ask Nadia or Hunk.

Head still spinning from the revelations, Katie left Luxia with a fond farewell. She didn’t know when she would be able to repay her for her help, but one day she would. Without Luxia’s push out of the door, she’d still be mixing drinks on the nightshift. 

She had hoped to see Romelle too, but she didn't seem to be working, either that or she was backstage getting ready for one of the pole routines, and Katie still had to catch another monorail home, with her messy thoughts and earbuds for company.

She’d returned to Xanthuria for answers to some worrying questions, and yet upon leaving, instead of fulfilment, she only found herself with more, especially regarding her puzzling–and enigmatic–CEO.

* * *

 

After the mermaid distractions were back to the grindstone <3 Keith's concept of ' _small figures_ ' is insane, and it's only going to get better from here on up


	14. Follow Every Line

Katie watched, dazed from sleep, as the water boiler streamed onto the three heaped spoons of instant coffee powder she just dumped into her five-hundred-ml travel mug.

It was one of the few luxuries she’d afforded herself after finally graduating with twice the debt from GarrittU, and after stirring the dark liquid a few times, took it with her over to the workbench she’d claimed for the day. After the staggering realisation that she had not, in fact, been incorrectly given someone else’s wage, she hadn’t really slept.

Her brain had been too active trying to make sense of it, and figure out what the hell she was going to do with it all. She’d made a couple of extra payments towards her loans, but still had over three thousand GAC to spare. She’d never had so much money sitting in her bank account in a lump sum before, and the concept was like a foreign language.

Eventually, she had decided to her best plan would be to do something about her phone, or rather, getting a replacement. With that much credit sitting in her bank account, she actually had some scope for looking into solutions, and realistically, it was something that needed to take priority.

She didn’t know how much the repayments would be with the private loan system Beezer had mentioned to her the previous day, but she was reasonably sure she did have enough for a decent deposit. She’d tossed and turned for a while before bringing up a holoscreen and looking it up in her contract, and on the company website.

Double checking, she reconfirmed what she had already suspected; she couldn’t just waltz right up to Hawkinovate HQ, but could request access for private appointments at most of the departments, all the way up to the executive offices. She didn’t know if that was normal or not, but a quick search of the information on finance, and she found the right place to submit her request.

After two more hours of not sleeping, she’d got up for her shower, and found a prompt on her email letting her know that she had been granted an appointment in later that day. Hunk must have been sent a notification too, because when she had stumbled through the door, gravitating towards the countertops where the coffee lived, he had told her to leave whenever she needed to to get to the central district in time.

Given that it seemed to be a fairly formal meeting (and if she showed up in her jeans again she would probably end up escorted out of the building by security, employee ID or not), Katie decided not to chance it with her clothes, and decided to wear some of the things she had picked up from the dry cleaners on her way home, and what had been in the bag from the night of the dinner.

The chartreuse dress was completely inappropriate, but inside the large fabric bag and sleek biodegradable boxes Lance had given her were a pair of slimline, bootcut creamy white trousers that matched the jacket she had worn, and what at first she thought was a t-shirt, but upon closer examination turned out to be a reversible black, sleeveless bodysuit, one side plunging, and a more sensible boatneck on the other.

Pulling that on first with the boatneck to the front (along with the reusable backless forms from the other night too), she matched it with the trousers Lance had added to make the jacket re-wearable. He had even thought ahead for her feet, because alongside the lemon-greenish heels, she found a pair of black suede mid-height ankle boots.

Instead of the jacket directly matching the trousers, she went for the creamy, cropped tweed jacket that had been lent to her from Keith’s stockpile of clothing for her first interview. It felt more appropriate than the cape-sleeved jacket from the dinner, but it matched, and had been kinda comfy and warm in the lab. She still fully intended on returning it, but given Keith’s lack of concern over the issue, she didn’t think one more day would make much difference.

And so, sitting down in front of the holoscreens with her coffee, she found herself with an appointment at the finance department with someone called Tabor Bell at four-thirty that afternoon. Despite the restless night, and the new direction with the unexpected phone emergency, she still had her focus and a job to do, one she was silently relishing.

She had planned to get a head start on the code for the arm project today, and had a couple of algorithms she could use to run the matrixes through first, so that she could copy the code’s current pattern without directly touching the matrix itself; the last thing she wanted to do was start messing with it directly, and have it change again. She didn’t know how many times it had already changed from previous attempts to hack through the code.

Evolving Code Matrixes. She could hardly wait to get into the meatier parts of the code, and after a scalding gulp of her coffee, started hooking up her personal drives to the company mainframe, bringing up their own screens and opening up the programs she needed.

The type of code she was dealing with wasn’t actually very complicated to make or set up. Simpler ones probably weren’t even that hard to get into. People used them in non-professional spheres all the time, and inevitably forgot their passwords, which was how her dad had ended up working on them.

The password never changed, but after a certain number of failed attempts, the file itself became its own encryption, a moving mass of numbers and binary associated to whatever was in the file. There were patterns, but those patterns changed again with every failed attempt to access the file.

Depending on what she found, she could be looking at decoding not just one, but up to three or four former pattern changes, which she would have to try and unravel to find the original code. Only once she found the original code would she be able to try and extrapolate the password.

It didn't take her long to get stuck into the task before her; her programs would take several hours to get through the first of the files, and in that time, she worked on the tweaks for Rover and the software for the datapads. Fixing Lotor’s shitty code was difficult, but not as much making his techwork according to the specifications of the brief was.

That was a tad more challenging. While made to stand up to extreme temperatures and altitude, and built to be more durable, the tech in the datapads was still relatively basic. That wasn't too much of a set back really - it gave her more to work with, and she was soon heading back and forth between one of the test bots sitting on the bench, tweaking the internal mechanisms and looking on the company archives for a few other types of tech she needed to add.

It was one of those searches that prompted her to venture over to Hunk’s control desk; he was staring vacantly at a screen, coffee stone cold on the desk, surrounded by holoscreens filled with what looked like documentation.

“Hey, can I pick your brain about something?” she asked, looking away from the screens (despite the itch of curiosity that made her want to crane her neck and read more instead).

“You can talk to me about anything that isn't justifying lab expenses,” Hunk said, spinning in his chair to turn his back on the screens. “What can I do for you? Want help with something? Need more hands?” his voice was almost pleading.

“I wanted to fit some of the phaser nanotech into Rover, but I can’t access the archive details. I don’t have the access for it…” she said, watching as Hunk mournfully drains the cold coffee. “Guessing paperwork is not your forte?”

Hunk made a face. “I hate it. I’m a scientist, an engineer. Not an office manager; if it weren't because Keith asked me to help with the ar… uh… Voltron…” he didn't sound convinced as he mumbled Lance’s codeword. “…amongst other things, I wouldn't be working here in the first place. Not as an employee at any rate. The public lab, yeah, but leading a lab like this? Not my thing. Anyway, you said something about phaser nanotech?”

Katie nodded, waving him to follow her back to her station to show him her blueprints for the revamped Rover. “I want to put them in on each of the four points, so that it can get into debris, send video feeds back, scan the area and create 3D navigation scans on the datapads, thermal imaging, and maybe B.L.I.P. tech? To track rescue workers, but first I need to see the schematics for the PhaserBlade nanotech,” she said, pulling up the archive database on a holoscreen. A quick search and a few taps on the screen brought up a red glowing screen, voicing silent denial. “But every time I try to access it, it says I don’t have the clearance.”

Hunk made a face. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” he said. “You’ll have to get Keith to approve that.”

“What?” Katie frowned. “Why? If I have to request access to the plans why are they even in the database? I thought anything in the database was free for researching and development?”

Hunk held up his hands. “It’s not that it’s completely restricted,” he explained. “And it’s not even something Keith has any control over. That rule was down before he was even born. His father put it into place to stop nanotech being put into military development. Anyone wanting to use it, not just employees, has to prove that it won't be used in weaponry or any other kind of military installation not related to medical care. If it is, the copyright allows for termination of the project.”

Part of her wanted to scream, but with an explanation, Katie understood. It was still a pain in the neck though. And it also explained why she had access to executive level appointment requests. “So…I have to talk to Keith?” she asked. “Err… how do I do that? Do I just request an appointment the same way I did for finance?”

Unfortunately, she couldn't just send her CEO a datadump or a call. She still had that card from Lance with what she presumed was an appointment code, and she knew he would be down to look in on the arm later in the week, but considering the limited time she had to work on the datapads and make them useable, the sooner she could get this working the better.

Hunk rubbed his face with a hand. “Ha, I wish, no,” he said. “You’d need to make a presentation to the board.”

Katie was too stunned to choke on that revelation. The board? She needed to present this to the board?

“Pidge? You okay?”

She started, shaking herself out of the daze Hunk’s revelation had put her into. “Yes! Sorry! Just… why?” she blinked. “I mean, I get it. That way even Keith can’t approve it for something that it’s not supposed to be used for, but…” she frowned, pausing at the expression on Hunk’s face. “…is it that hard?” she asked.

Hunk inhaled. “It’s certainly not going to be easy,” he said, turning and looking over her 3D blueprints. “Even my first design for the Taujeerians got turned down last time. The redesign was approved, but it was more like an overhaul than an edit,” he admitted, zooming in on one of the angled points, where she had planned to install the phaser.

“Is it that hard to convince the other board members?” Katie asked; if Hunk had that much trouble getting the tech approved for use, how was she going to manage?

“Oh, I’m not talking about convincing the board,” Hunk said. “I’m talking about convincing Keith.”

Katie really wanted to know what he meant by that, but she could find out later. If she needed to convince Keith, then she would better spend her time getting on with that instead of asking questions. “Do I just do that through the appointment system?” she asked. “I’ve got that business card–would that be quicker?”

“No, that’s just for public stuff. You’d be waiting for months. You’ll need to email Lance so that he can copy the other shareholders into it ahead of the next weekly meeting. You got his interface connection code in your contract info pack, right?” Hunk checked, stepping back, still looking over her robot.

Pidge nodded. She hadn’t connected it up yet, but there was a code that represented Lance’s company ID which would presumably allow her to send an email on the company network. That process was relatively painless, and she was already halfway into the message and request when another email came through on her interface.

Seeing that it was from the Finance department, she abandoned her message for a moment, skimming it over. “Who’s Zarkon Tomita?” she asked, not recognising the name beneath the digital ID stamp.

“Tomita?” Hunk blinked, looking away from the blueprints. He seemed confused by the sudden question. “He’s a shareholder, the CFO. Why?”

This Tomita guy was Chief Financing Officer? Katie paled as she double checked the words on her screen. “Because I just got an email with his name at the bottom telling me my appointment has been moved up. It’s… its in two hours.”

* * *

 

Iss. 9,969     Wednesday 14th Oct 2037     ₲4.97

**FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE**

_Kolivan Rolston arrives in Olkaria in his last role representing Hawkinovate Inc for the Kraydah Conference._

* * *

 

The Kraydah Conference committee welcomed Kolivan Rolston, Chief Operations Officer of Hawkinovate Inc through its doors for what is to be his last year visiting the various seminars and presentations on behalf of his nephew, CEO Keith Hawkins.

The Kraydah Conference, an international meeting between medical development companies, is an open discussion on future developments in everything from technology, operative techniques, hospital finance, current testing, and medicinal drugs, and updates on global and national health legislation.

A central event for all involved in the medical sector from government officials to hospital supply services, _Hawkinovate, Inc_ has been a frequent presence at the conference since its inception more than forty years ago, with many of it previous presentations being demonstrated–following the advent of the PhaserBlade–by Krolia Hawkins (née Gastayer).

Her Uncle, Kolivan Rolston, landed in Lubos International yesterday afternoon, and expressed his gratitude for the invitation upon reaching the brink of his working career with the tech mega-company. Initially expected to be accompanied by Mr. Hawkins, it is believed that in conjunction with Uisgemul developments, and recent company setbacks with the Taujeerian Seismology Contract (which has been delayed), changes were made to what was supposed to be Mr. Hawkins first visit to the conference.

Though some members invited to the conference express some mild disappointment, including Blaytz Kattan, BAKU Corp CEO, the decision was taken well by stock analysts as well as shareholders.

‘ _What the company needs right now is a familiar face abroad and clear control at home in light of recent developments,_ ’ said Zarkon Tomita, Hawkinovate CFO and Shareholder. ‘ _Mr. Rolston has plenty of experience with the dynamics of the Kraydah Conference, and I think everyone feels a little better with Mr. Hawkins here to negotiate through our other developments, and oversee the progression of projects that need a keener watch_.’

Wise words, but it's hard to think about Hawkinovate, its CEO, and the Kraydah conference together without also remembering the personal impact it represents to Mr. Hawkins; it not only represents a significant change and turning point in company history (which was not necessarily the better), but also an immense personal loss.

A passer by cannot help but watch Mr. Rolston onstage, as he opens the conference–a final honour by the organisational committee–at the King Lubos College Hospital lecture theatre, and feel like an old era is ending.

Hawkinovate Inc press releases and live streams, alongside current projects promise a return to the company’s founding principles, as part of Keith Hawkins’ new vision for the company, but it will be another year yet before a Hawkins returns to the Kraydah Conference and before attempts to restore the company name for better or worse, bear their fruit.

_Article by Remdax Millsap. Video © Vakala Moy-Lars._

* * *

**Hawkinovate History:** A look back in time to the third technological revolution, and role played by Heath Hawkins in the formation of the Kraydah conference as a global innovation committee.

 **The Akira Programme:** A look-back on Kolivan Rolston’s role in the development of Hawkinovate’s Academic Scholarship, and its inspiration.

 **Gastayer Medical Prize Race:** Eyes are starting to look to the Kral Zera Awards again as preparations begin in Naxzella; with Feyiv scientists and developers leading the list of potential nominees, is this a sign of _Hawkinovate Inc_ starting to lose weight in the global tech arena?

* * *

Keith reluctantly returned to his own apartment for the night.

Once finished the outline he’d been working on (it had been a few hundred words from done when Lance intervened), sleep came easily, if only because it had been poor the previous evening, but it was still littered with restless memories as much as his nap in the car had been.

Several times he woke up, confused as to why he couldn’t hear voices on the lower floor of Rosso Heights, when he’d woken up from the noise of reporters beyond the gates, before remembering he was twenty-six, had his own apartment now, and wouldn’t wake up again after being sent back to bed to news that would change his entire life.

He’d tried to sleep though, if only because Lance was right, and he couldn’t function without fulfilling basic needs. So, he slept as best he could, showered, made an attempt at breakfast, pushing his usual leave-for-work time a little later so that he could stop off for coffee, along with transparent bio-plastic pouches of deep, bright red pomegranate juice and street toast sandwiches for both himself and Iverson.

He made it into the office at half-past-eight instead of the usual six am, and Lance looked much less concerned as a result when he stepped out of the lift, looking around for a recycling can to get rid the clear, biodegradable sachet. “Morning. Did Mr. Shirogane arrive yet?” he asked, finally spotting the one for plastics next to Lance’s desk.

“Not yet, but soon,” Lance nodded, stretching his arms for the keyboard even as he got up to finish off his typing. “I got word from the company car that they had picked him up and were getting up to Brodar Cyrk about five minutes ago,” he added, following Keith through into the office. “I emailed you everything current from Lab D, so you should be ready to go when he arrives, and I already sent for the usual guest refreshments.”

“Good,” Keith nodded, opening up the interface at his desk, pulling the night settings off the windows and making sure the rest of the electronics were set up. “Nothing from Tomita today?”

Lance shook his head, sitting on the arm of one of the guest sofas and flicking through his datapad with a finger. “Nope,” he said popping the _‘p’_. “Just the usual updates from finance. He did email about bringing up some of the employee benefits schemes for review at a board meeting soon.”

“Tell him I want his data dump on it first,” Keith grumbled; he could already smell the headache coming from that a mile away. “He knows he has to send the files so everyone can read up on them before anything gets approved to go to the board. Anything else?”

“There’s an auction next Wednesday to raise money for Naxzella you got an invite for; want me to confirm?”

“Sure,” Keith shrugged. “What about here?” he prodded.

“Ven’tar is organising a few last minute details for Kolivan’s retirement party, and starting on the ones for your birthday,” Lance said, hitting something on the datapad; half a second later Keith heard his interface ping, and he tried to pretend that he hadn’t heard the mention of his own birthday. “Sal’s has agreed to do the catering, so you’ll just have to approve the menus before Kolivan gets back, and Illun has started the arrangements for Rosso Heights.”

“Is there anything else, that counts as important?” Keith tried again. “My birthday is irrelevant. What’s going on here?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I’m expecting Gal and Lowes to forward their updates for Uisgemul before the meeting at half-one, or Lowes at least–you know how Gal is with holoscreens–so you should have plenty of time to go over it. I booked your meeting with Mr. Shirogane for three hours, so unless it actually takes that long, you have time to work on your own steam,” he said. “Oh, and Pidge put in a request for a board meeting appointment regarding PhaserBlade nanotech.”

Pidge– _Katie?_ Phaser nanotech? Keith started, looking up from the list of canapés and entrees form Sal’s that had been in the email from Lance, processing what his friend had just told him. “Phaser Nanotech? Katie asked?” he checked, unsure if he’d misheard.

“Yeah, it's something to do with the Taujeerian project. The datapads?”  Lance raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back to his datapad, and another ping echoed on Keith’s interface. “I’ve sent you the request to check later. Ryan just told me Mr. Shirogane has arrived. Want me to go get him?”

Recovering from the surprised, Keith relaxed, then nodded. Lance gave a mock salute, and once he was gone, Keith quickly looked through the notes on the arm that had been forwarded from Hunk. Without the encryptions broken, there wasn’t much to go on yet, but what was available was still promising.

They might even be able to get full sensation into the nanotech. One of the readable files had described the prototype as having that function, it was just a matter of whether or not there had been any previous success. Summer and Tomita hadn’t found anything, but Keith found it unusual that it had been abandoned after being bought from GalTech. There was something of worth in those files, it was just getting to it.

He had a few moments to ponder and think about possible questions from Mr. Shirogane, his own responses to them, and how he could possibly make this look like it would be worth the man’s time. He had been listed as a volunteer on the project, so it made sense to work with someone who had already been determined as a viable candidate as a test subject and beneficiary.

The problem would be convincing the man.

He heard Lance’s voice in animated chatter with a deeper toned man, and Keith desperately hoped Lance wasn’t flirting with a potential client again (it never seemed to bother people, but one day, it was going to bite them both, he was certain). The doors opened, and he smiled in greeting.

“It’s good to see you again Mr. Shirogane,” he greeted, going through the routine of shaking hands again with the broad-shouldered man. “Was the journey over comfortable? The traffic in central can be a bit mental this time of the morning.”

“Thank you for having me back, and yes! It was; it was a bit strange at first, but the driver knows the roads here better than I do, so it was probably quicker,” he laughed sheepishly. “We were originally only going to rent a place here for my boyfriend’s job, but then you contacted us about an arm so… I ended up moving in, too. I’m still not used to it. It's so busy here.”

“I know what you mean; even if I didn’t make it a point to be here for six, I’d still try to beat the rush traffic. I had a later start today and the roads were insane. Iverson was turning the air blue left, right, and centre,” Keith nodded, gesturing towards the sofas, and the coffee table between them topped with honey biscuits, juice, tea and coffee. “If you want to take a seat, I can show you the progress we’ve had so far, and then we can go through any questions you’ve had since our last meeting?”

Mr. Shirogane nodded, and Keith got down to work going through each page of the document Hunk had sent him. The man was familiar with most of the terminology, even if he admitted he didn't entirely understand some of the technical ones. He already had a bionic prosthetic though, so that wasn’t surprising.

Most of his questions came at the end, when he’d had more time to look everything over and made his own opinions clearer. They had gone through the document, and Keith had explained its limitations in the development process.

“My biggest concern is that this is still so vague,” the man said finally. “When I’ve signed up for projects like this before, there’s always been a lot more information as to what will be involved for me,” he explained. “Operations and the like. It's not that I’m not interested, but if the research isn’t funded or treated properly, accidents happen.”

“Thats a legitimate concern, and I don’t blame you for being sceptical,” Keith nodded. “And I won’t get your hopes up too far by saying that there a 100% guarantee that this will even come to anything Mr. Shirogane, because there isn’t. Everything we’ve established about this project is based off notes from a first attempt to bring it into production, which failed before I took over. For all I know, it could end up being a dead end,” he explained. “But my impression so far is that it won’t, and since your name was on the original project file, it made sense to me to approach you before we get to testing stages to see if you’d be interested in seeing where it goes.”

“How long is it going to be before you know more?”

Keith let out a breath. “That depends on the woman working on the code locking these files up,” he admitted, brown hair and hazel-brown eyes flickering to mind. “I don’t understand it, I’m not a software engineer or hacker, but it looks like a lot of work. There’ll be a progression meeting tomorrow, so I can ask her, then get back to you if that’s suitable?”

The man brightened. “That would be great,” he nodded,.

“My other question is…” he faltered, looking for words. “Well, I need to know if this is going involve any costs,” he said finally. “I do have funding, but given this would be new tech… would I be due any costs for something like this?"

“Not at all.” At least that was a question Keith could answer with some certainty. “Regardless of the fact that this is still untested tech you’d be volunteering as a test subject for, all of our other prosthetics are developed under national health programme regulations,” he explained. “Once out of the testing stage, as long as they’re approved, they’re funded by the government. Private models do exist, with slightly higher features and interface integration, things like that which can be purchased privately, but if you’ve already qualified for a prosthetic with your GP and any surgeons, then you can be fitted with our tech, and even the higher end models can be put through on national health if the base ones aren’t conducive to your normal lifestyle or work with you physically.”

Mr. Shirogane looked shocked. “I thought the public healthcare partnerships had been stopped a few years back?” he asked.

Keith made a face, trying to mask his internal irritation. “There were roads made towards it, before I took over, but those have been put back on track now,” he said. “There was a lot of back-pedalling and fine print to work around though, so the marketing hasn't had a chance to catch up, but I assure, even if you just want to try out one of our regular models, you will not be paying a single credit.” He wondered how he could steer the conversation away from the potential molehill that question had unearthed. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you lose your arm? Have you been involved in private medical programmes before Mr. Shirogane? You seem well informed.”

“I don't mind,” the man smiled, the broad wide kind of smile that probably melted his boyfriend’s knees without his notice. “I get it a lot; I’m a Volcanologist. I was working in Taujeeria monitoring seismic activity in the Balmeran prefecture after Mt. Arca last erupted. We were monitoring the flows after the big eruption in twenty-thirty-two?”

“I know the one you mean,” Keith nodded, tapping into a search engine to bring up an old news stream. “This one?” he asked as a video of red hot magma played. “It was two weeks before the crater could be safely approached, wasn't it? it was about a month after this that the Taujeerian government approached us for help revamping the their tech; I was still doing my internship.”

It had been a terrible eruption which highlighted the failure in Taujeerian tech to keep up with the harsh conditions of their seismically angry island nation. Keith wondered if the board members ever kept that in mind when they looked at the Seismology contract that had been finalised just under a year ago as nothing more than a money bag.

“Anyway, I was on the flows by the coast with my partner, doing our checks when the second eruption started, and the zone we were in started to get… twitchy” Mr. Shirogane continued. “There was a fountain eruption from a small crater we passed during the retreat back to the helicopter. I’m lucky it was just my arm that caught and I fell backwards, not forwards, else I’d be hot ashes and further fossil dust right now.”

“That’s…” Keith knew it would incredibly insensitive to say it sounded ‘ _awesome_ ’ like a kid watching a cartoon about superheroes, but the casual way Mr. Shirogane described his job made it sound more thrilling and dangerous than _‘Third Dimension Force!!!’_ had ever seemed when he was thirteen. “…a bit of an incredible story. Did you get any assistance with rehab?”

“Oh plenty, it was a government funded aid expedition, and the Taujeerian doctors were amazing for the first year when I was still in recovery; it was how I met Curtis,” his face lit up, and if Keith had entertained any notions of appreciating the man, they were shot down completely on sight of the expression. “He came along with one of my friends on the morning chronicle’s environmental pages while I was still in hospital there. He’s was the photographer.”

“And did you look into prosthetics immediately following that?” Keith asked, leaning back on the sofa where he was seated, reaching for one of the filled biscuits on the coffee table.

Shiro nodded, looking at the holoscreens still floating gently in the air before him. “I was able to qualify straight away, and I wanted to go back to work, but a lot of the government standard ones just… they didn't connect well to my nerves, and the movement was clunky; the surgeons said the speed at which my brain…” his face fell in consternation, trying to think. “I’m not sure exactly–there's some medical mumbo jumbo in here that I can never remember–but I guess the rate it transmits signals through my CNS was above the threshold and I should consider private models.”

“And you got linked into prototype tests?” Keith guessed.

Mr. Shirogane nodded. “Because I wasn't a match for standard models, my doctor recommended me into a few test trials on a national research database sent out by tech and medical companies and universities. I went into a few trials for new models before I got this one on Feyiv’s support programme,” he held up his arm. “But the movement isn’t much better, and it wouldn't support my work, environmental limitations.” He grinned. “You’ll probably be happy to hear that I preferred the Hawkinovate ones, even the standard models I had trouble with.”

Keith  laughed. “You’d be right,” he grinned. “I am. I apologise for any intrusion, but it's reassuring to know that you're aware of what any developments would involve. I wish I had more to offer you on how it will develop, but…” he shrugged. “…baby steps.”

“I’m happy to wait. I’m doing some blogging for the research team I work for until I can find something suitable for the conditions, so I’m in no rush,” the man assured him.

Keith nodded, catching the time on one of the screens just as a silent ping form Lance showed up, reminding him that the meeting with Gal and Lowes was starting soon. “I’ll send you a datadrop with everything in once I've had an update from the labs, but until them I’m afraid I have to cut this short here,” he said getting to his feet; the man mirrored him, taking to his own feet. “Thank you for coming again Mr. Shirogane. If you have any more questions, please don't hesitate to contact me.”

“Shiro is fine,” the man–Shiro, Keith corrected himself–said as they shook hands.

After escorting Mr. Shirogane from his office towards the lift–chatting away for a few moments through the wait and discovering they were both fans of the same martial arts competition, _Monsters & Mana _, and football team–Keith turned and headed back towards Lance’s desk.

His PA was doing his work, which was immediately suspicious, and told Keith that Lance had either been spying on someone (probably him), messed up somewhere, or was curious about something but unsure how to broach the subject. Lance hardly ever found himself lost for words, and having checked it for the day, and week, already Keith knew he didn’t have anymore surprises as far as his schedule went.

Which left his first guess.

“What’s going on?” he asked, watching Lance type. The document looked like an invitation rejection, mixed amongst holoscreens for a chat with his older sister, and some others (including Kinkade from the downstairs reception, Ven’tar, and Beezer from Samasama), a few tabs on fashion trends (Keith spotted the name of Lisa’s new brand), some emails from the national health programme, presumably for Lab E’s medical project coordination, all beside the annual schedule screen that was constantly open.

“Tomita, and I’m not exactly sure.”

Ah. That explained the spying. Lance hated not knowing things, and they both hated not knowing things about Tomita even less, especially when navigating his twitchy attitude depended on knowing whatever quirk was strongest on any given day.

“What’s he doing now?” Keith asked, angling his head in the direction Lance’s eyes kept flickering down the hallway that lead to the main finance offices. “He’s not been poking around in my office again has he?”

“I really wish I knew. Come on; I’ll tell you on the way down to Lowes’ office,” Lance grumbled, getting to his feet and shutting down his collection of screens so they could head down the next couple of floors for the check-in on Uisgemul. They walked past the hallway back towards the lifts; Keith crossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his elbow as they waited. Once the doors pinged and they had the privacy of closed doors, he raised an eye at his PA.

“Okay, so I was talking to Ryan and–don't give me that look, you're as bad as me, I saw you checking out your client’s ass–” Lance started, pouting at Keith’s expression at the mention of the former’s newest charm offensive. “–and apparently Bell came down to pick up some woman for an appointment? Which we both thought was weird, he never shows up directly, but Ryan was all ‘ _seriously, he looks confused as fuck and apologetic_ ’ so he sent me a photo, and lo, there’s Tabor with someone else we know…”

Lance held out his phone to him as the lift gently glided down to the lower floors. In the picture was a dark haired man, and a woman in a white jacket that was indeed familiar.

“Wait, is that K- Miss Holt?” Keith frowned; why was Katie all the way over here from the labs? He knew finance appointments were usually first come first served, but they were generally later in the day for employees. Wait, hadn't Lance said something about a board meeting appointment request earlier too?

“…the one and only,” Lance nodded. “I was going to leave it be since, not my business, but then I got a message for Zarkon’s PA in our group chat–”

“There’s a group chat?”

“–how else do you think we get your times tables to line up? Relax, I only tell people good things about you. Anyway, back to the topic, I got a message from Aki, and Aki never uses cuss words, except when he’s ranting about Tomita, and all the pings from the profanities were driving me insane, so I opened up the chat, and apparently Tomita just upped and left his office just before a meeting with one of the investors.”

“That's not… Wait, he did _what?_ Who? Which investor? It wasn't Ms. Stirling was it?”

“Cinda Ward, and chill, it turns out Aki was freaking out over nothing again; Tomita still has an hour before she’s due to show. Anyway, I was trying to ask Aki what the hell was going on, when Bell stormed out of the lift, raving about him interrupting his meetings and how he doesn't need him to do his job, etcetera etcetera; they had locked themselves in Zarkon’s office and there had been all kinds of grumbles coming from it when you showed up.”

Keith filtered it all for the essential points between the inter-office gossip web he knew he’d never have a hope of navigating, finally arriving at a conclusion as the lift pinged, signalling their arrival on the floor dedicated to marketing and public relations.

“That’s unusual,” he grunted, not wanting to offer anymore comment now that they were in a more public hallway; the words were nothing less than accurate though.

Form the sound of it, Zarkon had intruded on a private personal finance interview, Katie’s no less. First the lecture the morning she’d been interviewing with Hunk, then he’d tried to barge into her paperwork processing to stop it, the drama he’d caused at the last board meeting, now this?

What exactly had Katie done to piss off Zarkon? Step on his shoes? Or was it really just the public image concerns as he claimed? Keith pushed the musings to the back of his mind as Ladnok made their way down the hallway towards them.

“Think you can find out what all of this was about?” he asked quietly.

“Dude,” Lance snorted, eyes and screen stylus never leaving his datapad. “I am so far ahead of you it's sad.”

* * *

 

Katie stared at her screen, wondering how she was supposed to start an email to her mother when all she wanted to do was scream into her pillow in frustration.

The meeting at the finance department had been a disaster. Initially Mr. Bell had met her in person, apologising for the mix up in the times, but still happy to speak with her after his current appointment had finished over his lunch break. He’d even bought them both sandwiches from one of the catering stations on the floor he’d led her to after arriving at the reception.

They had been in the middle of discussing some of the options when the big guy from the hallway who she had crashed into waltzed himself into the room, apologising without much regret that employee loans were currently being reviewed, and that no more new loans could be taken out until the evaluations on the scheme were complete.

The two office men had argued back and forth, and eventually the big angry guy had all but told her leave. Incredibly rudley, in fact. The grumpy asshole–who she figured was the Tomita guy who had emailed her earlier, but seriously why couldn't he have just told her that she wouldn't be able to take out an employee loan in the first place rather than just change her appointment time other than just to be deliberately difficult–who put her in a bad mood for the rest of the day was hardly her biggest problem though.

She still had to find a phone from somewhere. Aside from all of its uses in linking her personal data and access to her personal interface, she really did need it to get in contact with her brother, her friends from the club, and not least, her parents.

Rolling flat onto her back on her bed she stared at the ceiling, making a face at the bubbling in the paint. She really hoped that wasn't more damp. That was the last thing she needed. Why could something good just happen without the pile of extra new crap that followed. She couldn’t have got a decent job without something going wrong.

Far from the mood to be doing some extra work on the coded files, she contemplated the benefits of simply rolling over and going to sleep. Being so angry had sapped her appetite, so she ought to eat something, but she’d forgotten she had over three-thousand credits in her terrible mood, and forgotten to go food shopping on the way home, so all she had in the fridge were some dodgy old take-out leftovers and gherkins.

Much as she liked dunking them in peanut butter (she wasn't crazy, Matt was just uncultured), she didn't have any peanut butter _to_ dunk them in, and that was the only thing she really felt like. The thought of having to cook instead of wallow in her anger just made her more irritated.

But she needed to eat. Maybe she had some noodles? She still had cheese. Wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it would provide calories. Counting to ten to will herself to sit up, she was poking through her cupboard for more flavourings–because what she had presumed were instant noodles was actually spaghetti and she needed more than butter and cheese with non-flavoured noodles– when her doorbell buzzed.

Abandoning her search, she went to the intercom and pulled up a screen of the outdoor building camera; there was a delivery man on the front steps.

“Hello?” she called out into the microphone.

‘ _Evening. Got a couriered delivery for Miss Katie Holt. Need a ID check._ ’

“But I haven’t ordered anything,” she frowned. “Are you sure that’s right?”

‘ _The name is right; this was a private pick up, live tracked. If it's really wrong, you can get it returned to depot, but I need an ID for it either way._ ’ the man said.

Private pick up? Maybe it was something to do with work. Groaning, she pulled on a dressing-gown to hide her worn pyjamas, and headed down the stairs to the front door. She scanned her thumbprint into the delivery man’s scanner, and he handed her a thin, but sturdy biodegradable plastic container.

She eyed it as she headed back up the stairs, but couldn't see any sign as to what it could be. Once back inside her room, she sat down on her bed, working open the seals and lifting the cover from the box, chicking it across the room to her recycling pile and looking down at the contents.

Inside was another plastic box, printed with the familiar Hawkinovate logo. Beneath it was a sub-line: ‘ _Myzax7_ ’. That was a phone. In her hands was no cheap small-scale model from a few tech generations past either; it was fairly recent handset, with full modcons, like Hunk and Lance and… Keith’s. She didn't even recognise it.

As she stared, a ping echoed on her interface. Had she not been sitting next to the still-open screen she might have missed it, but she caught the flashing banner from the corner of her eye, and twisted a bit too quickly to check her messages when she caught the name highlighted in sender’s contact line.

* * *

 **From:** KeithHawkins@Vermillion.HWI.org  
**To:** KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG-East.mrt  
**Subject:** Heard you had some problems with Tomita.  
**Sent:** 14 **.** 10 **.** 2037 (21:30pm)

Lance heard through his rumour mill and Hunk that you had some problems at finance earlier; I never really thanked you for helping out last Friday, and I didn’t think bribery muffins were adequate compensation for the media shitstorm. Hope this helps you out–Keith.

[ _Personal Interface Link Invite_ ]

* * *

Her eyes scanned it several times, double checking between the message and the device in her hand, but it still didn't really make sense. Keith had bought her a phone. And sent her his personal contact link. And that alone was–worryingly–just enough to make all the hassle worth it.

* * *

Pidge's clothes: [jacket](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1102879/Balmain/fringed-metallic-tweed-jacket), [shirt](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1120888/Wolford/reversible-stretch-crepe-bodysuit-), [trousers](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1101498), [boots](https://www.net-a-porter.com/gb/en/product/1099833/Aquazzura/alma-85-suede-ankle-boots).

Never underestimate Lance's ability to know everything, or his connections. Ever XD 

Thank you to [@KDXArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAdrenaline/profile) for turning my sleep-scribble/typing hieroglyphics into actual words <3  



	15. All The Harm

**From:** [KeithHawkins@Vermillion.HWI.org](mailto:KeithHawkins@Vermillion.HWI.org)  
**To:** KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG-East.mrt  
**Subject:** Heard you had some problems with Tomita.  
**Sent:** 14 **.** 10 **.** 2037 (21:30pm)

Lance heard through his rumour mill and Hunk that you had some problems at finance earlier; I never really thanked you for helping out last Friday, and I didn’t think bribery muffins were adequate compensation for the media shitstorm. Hope this helps you out–Keith.

[ _Personal Interface Link Invite_ ]

* * *

 **From:** [MarmoranRepublicTerritoiesPDE@Gov.org](mailto:MarmoranRepublicTerritoiesPDE@Gov.org).mrt  
**To:** [KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG](mailto:KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG)-East.mrt  
**Subject:** Interface Lockdown Warning  
**Sent:** 15 **.** 10 **.** 2037 (00:00am)

**Marmoran Republic Territories Personal Data Encryption Services.**

Miss Katie Holt,

Following internal and external compromise alerts from your personal interface on the _10_ _th_ _October 2037_ , it is my duty to inform you that, in accordance with Marmoran Republic Territories and International Data Protection law, that from the date of this notification, you have one week to officially reinstate the affected database extension device, or provide an alternative.

If required, government models of database extension devices are available. Please find more details on how to apply, should you require, for such models _here_. If you fail to provide an alternative, your personal interface will be locked down for security purposes, and full ID checks and data examination will be required to regain access to your interface.

Following the confirmation of a new device, your Interface will remain in a limited access for a _minimum_ of six days to ensure that all your personal information remains encrypted, and cannot be used for fraudulent or criminal purposes. This will not affect any emergencies, such as access to medical records by hospitals.

Thank you for your patience and understanding regarding this matter.

Sincerely,  
_Manset Chalk._

Interface and Extension Device Compromise Department

* * *

 **From:** [Sales@Luxuriquer.FG](mailto:Sales@Luxuriquer.FG)-North.mrt  
**To:** [KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG](mailto:KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG)-East.mrt  
**Sent:** 14.10.2037 (23:57pm)  
**Subject:** HOT NEW DEALS ON MARMORAN VODKAS! 

15% Off commercial sales, 45% with Bartender’s Club membership! Nettare brand nunvills now a whopping 50% off! Offer Lasts until Sunday 18th October. T&Cs _here_ _._

* * *

 **From:** [Admin@FortGarrittUniversity.FG](mailto:Admin@FortGarrittUniversity.FG)-South.mrt  
**To:** [KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG](mailto:KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG)-East.mrt  
**Sent:** 15.10.2037 (07:57am)  
**Subject:** Your Repayment

Miss Katie Holt,

Thank you for your payment to Fort Garritt University Financial department of ₲178.00. Your remaining balance on your educational loan is:

  **₲29,476.45**

If you would like to make another payment, please…

* * *

 **From:** [ShayEiden@MSPCA-FortGarritt.FG](mailto:ShayEiden@MSPCA-FortGarritt.FG)-Central.mrt  
**To:** [KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG](mailto:KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG)-East.mrt  
**Subject:** Hi! Open Day Invite!  
**Sent:** 15.10.2037 (07:57am)

Hi Pidge! 

Rax told me what happened to your phone! That’s awful. I really hope you found it. If you still have access to your interface, and you get this, we’re having an open day at the centre and since you came along before with Romelle, I figured I’d let you know in case you wanted to come help out with all the animals again. 

One of the officers rescued a litter of Bluvian waterdog puppies who need homes. The mother was in an abusive home, and the vets had to give her surgery, but we lost her  :( I know you can’t take any, but if you know anybody or can help out on Saturday let me know! That is, if you get this XD

[ _Image inset of fluffy, dark furred puppies the size of house cats_ ]

They’re six weeks old and and ready for being homed! Aren't they gorgeous?! The little guy with the blue marks hates the camera so you can only see his tail, but the others were really excited for their first selfie! Especially the white and grey girl with the pinkish patches! She’s such a little madam.

Rax told me you’re busy with a new job so if you can’t make it, I understand. I’m glad you finally got a break! Hopefully we can catch up soon!

Shay  <3

* * *

 **From:** [Support@GalranInstituteTechnology.FG](mailto:Support@GalranInstituteTechnology.FG)-West.mrt  
**To:** [KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG](mailto:KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG)-East.mrt  
**Subject:** Your recent account statement.  
**Sent:** 15.10.2037 (08:04am)

Miss Holt,

Thank you for you most recent payment. Your remaining debt to be paid is:

**₲48,227.53**

If this message has been received in error, please contact your bank immediately. To arrange further payments, please speak to one of our financial advisors by following the following call link…

* * *

The lab was full of the usual quiet that came with an early morning while Katie sat and booted up her holoscreens, waiting for the coffee machine in their kitchenette to offer its nectar.

Nadia hadn’t arrived yet (but Katie had seen her at the reception talking with Ina from Lab A), and Hunk was in the toilet, taking advantage of the facilities to wash his face, and if the gurgling over the tap was anything to go by, brush his teeth (he appeared to be the roll out of bed and into his work clothes type) 

As her main programmes popped to life, she couldn't help but look at one of her screens, open on her social media. Someone had got a photo of her on her way back from work yesterday, looking like a thundercloud, and there was a pile of comments tacked on with it. Mostly because of the clothes (which, baffled her a bit–why would someone waste their time tracking down a jacket on the internet? It wasn’t just odd, it was kind of scary and stalker-y), but they were trending toward the ‘ _Keith must have bought them for her_ ’ kind, and weren’t too complimentary.

Which… wasn’t entirely wrong. Technically the jacket _was_ Keith’s. She just hadn't got around to returning it yet. Just like the light, lime-green skirt (with the detachable front pouch that she was getting a bit too fond of for practicality) and collarless blazer she was wearing again, the pink gathered silk top, and white knee boots. Lance had pilfered those from Keith’s flat too. 

Katie was justifying the use with the same purpose she had worn them for last week; the standards that would be associated with the eventual public viewings of the lab recordings. She had watched Hawkinovate’s lab streams since her school years, and then more religiously in college and university. 

She had to admit, she didn’t really want to be seen online in her worn-out pants and shirts by thousands of people, either on playback, or live. Katie knew that she didn't _need_ to wear designer clothes for that, but while she had them, what was the harm? And they were comfortable. Thinking about the clothes invariably led her to Keith, and that led her to most recent development with him. One currently burning a hole in the bottom of her desk drawer. 

Keith had bought her a phone, and Katie had absolutely no idea how to process that, or what to do with it (and she had even less confidence in deciding what to do with the personal interface link that had been sent along with the email). 

Keith had said it was a way of saying thank you for helping out at that fancy dinner thing, and an apology for all the hassle that had started as a result (which, thanks to Matt’s blunt reminder, she was watching a little more closely). But still. It was a phone.

They cost an exorbitant amount of money, especially the ones this high tech. Easily over eight-thousand GAC (she dreaded to think how much that would be in Olkarian credit). There was no way she could accept something like that, no matter how much it would help her. She didn't think it was from pity, but she didn't want it anyway. Clothes were one thing, but a phone? Once it was hooked up to her personal interface she wouldn't be able to return it.

So, instead of opening the box and taking the device to the PDE services office, the phone remained in its box, ready to be returned to the man who had sent it to her. Today was the day of the second progress meeting, so she would return it to Keith at the end before he went back to the Vermillion building. Hopefully without making a mess of her composure and decorum in the process.

Returning the phone would be easy; ignoring the interface link was different. That was more intimate; the offer to share personal contact information was surprising, and made her think about the soft, gentle kiss he’d left on her cheek the previous Friday. It felt like more than a week had passed since then, and Katie couldn’t help but mesh the link in with the surprising gesture at the end of the dinner.

Katie knew she was better off rejecting the link. Keith was her employer. She worked for him, and not even on the gopher-level synonymous with affairs and seduction in her eBooks; that was _Lance’s_ job. Just because Keith had let her borrow clothes for her interview and formal meetings, been a little flirty from the whiskey and almond liqueur, and had decided to buy her a phone and kissed her on the cheek and sent her a personal contact link didn’t mean he was interested in her or attracted to her…

…and she was thinking way too much about it. It was just an interface link; she’d had them from Luxia and Tavo, even Lahn and Rolo back at Xanthuria, and she hardly spoken to those last two. Honestly, getting to know the man in charge of the company she worked for might even help her out in the long run. She was being ridiculous. The privilege of that kind of information wasn't something to turn away, but it didn't mean anything else either.

It was fine; she’d return the phone after the meeting, then accept the link. It was that simple. Easy.

With a plan in mind, Katie turned her attention back to her interface; everything had started up, and she loaded the first of the codes into the analysing program, taking the first off pause from where she had stopped it the previous day. With normal code she would have been able to leave it running overnight, but not an evolving matrix. There was no way she could leave something like this running without supervision. There were too many places that an algorithm wouldn't be able to process the changing data. She had to intervene manually often. Leaving it running overnight could seriously damage the files, or lock their access even more than they already had been.

After checking that everything was functioning as she wanted, Katie killed a few moments going through her email. There were the general bill statements, notifications for her payments to GalTech and GarrittU, and promotion email subscriptions. The usual morning garbage clogging up her inbox.

She avoided looking at the message from Keith again, instead perking up at the sight of one from Shay. She was a friend from university who had started at GarrittU during Katie’s last year. She’d met her through Romelle, and it was through Shay that they had been able to get jobs at Xanthuria, after Rax had put a good word in for them to Luxia. Shay was training to be a vet, and worked at one of the MSPCA centres in the central district.

They usually had a few open days each year, and Katie had enjoyed helping out at them before. Before she could start composing her reply, Nadia’s rushed arrival told her the progress meeting was soon to start, and she quickly closed down the holoscreen in favour of her working ones.

She watched as Hunk emerged from the toilet, watching Nadia rush around for a hurried set up, then looked down at his watch in confusion. “Keith’s here already?” he asked, surprised. “He’s not usually this early, that's weird... ” Hunk frowned. “Wait, Pidge, do you have the date handy?” he asked, grabbing his lab coat off the chair and pulling it on, prompting her to do the same as Nadia rushed out of her office, hair flying in her face where it had escaped a quick but presentable bun that she hadn't been wearing a few moments ago.

Turning in her seat to look through the door window, Katie raised an eyebrow at Hunk and Nadia’s urgency.

“It’s the fifteenth,” Katie said absently, glancing at the date stamp on the corner of her holoscreen; she couldn’t see anyone but she could hear muffled voices just beyond the door, speech clouded by the echo of the hallways.

“Shit, great, okay, yeah, that's no surprise then,” Hunk sighed to himself. 

Before Katie could ask him what he meant by the strange acknowledgement, the door opened and Keith stepped into the room, an active earpiece blinking around his ear, chattering away in what sounded like… Altean? No, Bluvian. Fast and fluid, or at least, it sounded fairly fluent. As he spoke, Katie chewed her bottom lip as she observed him, her eyes following the lines of his suit.

It was boxy, with sharp lines and dark black, buttoned to one side of his chest,  the blazer jacket just overlapping itself; it had a longer cut, deep pockets and sharp, pointed lapels. Slightly and deliberately long in the sleeves, the cuffs of his white shirt were hidden, but she caught a flash of black and silver–head-shaped? No, skull shaped–cufflinks as he raised an arm to end his call. His purple tie had a bright lustre, and his trousers were slim and tapered at the ankle, but not cropped, leaving no gap between the hems and a pair of polished black buckle-fastened shoes.

It was hard to say what his choice in clothing was like when she had only seen him in suits, but the ones she had seen, he had always looked good, and today was no different. Conscious that she was starting to stare a little too much, she turned her attention to the man who had followed instead.

Lance, a little surprisingly, looked significantly less relaxed than he usually did. His suit, a bright white slim one, which was loosely opened to reveal a pink and navy striped t-shirt, and a pair of neutral toned suede loafers; while his clothes were less formal, they were still presentably smart; his frazzled appearance was in his expression, and the way he tapped furiously at his datapad, the twists at the corners of his lips and brows.

“Sorry about that, morning,” Keith said, jerking her attention away from Lance as he addressed the room. “Hammering some details through for Uisgemul with Baku-Corp.” He added, pulling up a chair near the central desk that operated as Hunk’s work hub.

Chairs. Shit, _chairs_. The meeting was starting already? Scrambling with her own, she joined Nadia in dragging hers over as Hunk pulled the holoscreens up for them at the semicircular unit. Mouthing a thank you, Katie dared another glance at Keith–who was sitting beside her again–then quickly turned back to her holoscreen, glad she’d put a bit of make-up on; he wouldn't see her starting to flush from the intent expression he was wearing alongside the snazzy suit.

“Alright, what developments have been made since last week?” Keith asked, as Lance joined them with his own chair. “Any progress on the codes for the locked reports and schematics? That was going to be the main hurdle to get past,” he mused, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

Rather than the so-far casual and calm, almost sarcastic amusement, or flirtatious curl on his lips that she had seen in his previous use of the gesture, this time, Katie didn’t get that feeling. This was an expectation, a demand. Just like the first time he had spoken to her at the bar, it made her back straighten, trying to make herself a little taller in her seat.

“I have three of the documents running through some programs that will track the former password attempts; the code itself isn’t too hard to deal with if it hasn't kicked in to protect the contents, but unsuccessful attempts have been made already,” she started, bringing up a screen of her programs at work, sifting through the code, trying to find where she could find a decent section as an example.

Keith listened, talking his own notes even as Lance tapped away on an interface of his own, recording and typing everything as a double record. “And that causes problems how exactly?” he asked, copying the holoscreen she had projected closer, in a new one that he watched curiously.

“The failed attempts to access disrupt the contents, or even the file itself depending on how advanced the code matrix is,” Katie explained. “Which in this case, is probably both. I have to undo the code patterns that are encrypting the file in layers, until I find the original, then I have to extrapolate the password from that. If I get it wrong at any point, I just add to the web of distortions already on the file,” she continued. “I can't leave the programs running because I need to jump in manually from time to time when the programs won't unravel some of the more convoluted code.”

“You have all the resources you need?” he asked. “What I mean is that there's nothing you’re missing that is holding progress? It’s just the nature of the code?”

Katie blinked, unsure of how to respond to that; she was conscious of Keith's eyes, their vibrant purple hue magnetic, holding hers in a steady gaze. After a moment of skin-tingling thought, she finally spoke. “If anything, processing power,” she said. “The server connection in the lab is great, but if I could plug in to a proper computing lab that might help?” she shrugged, taking a breath; that pleasant, spiced scent of cologne filled her nose and she willed herself to ignore it. “Besides that, it’s just a case of waiting, unfortunately.”

“Can we do that?” Keith asked, pausing his note-taking.

He directed his question towards Hunk, breaking his gaze from her; Katie slumped in her chair a little, a small breath escaping her lips as she tried to collect her thoughts again. She felt a little exposed under that gaze and she couldn’t decide if it was truly a bad thing.

Lance watched her from over his data pad, curious concern on his face, tilting his head in query; Katie gave him a quick half smile to let him know she was okay, shaking her head to rid herself of the distraction. Focus; she needed to focus.

“The computer labs are on open server, so they wouldn’t be secure enough against the other labs,” Hunk frowned. “I mean the servers themselves are accessible from the communal interface rooms, but I think that would attract too much attention.”

“I could link directly into the servers?” she suggested. “It’d mean going down to one of the hubs, but there’d be plenty of processing power there?”

“No,” Keith said immediately. “If someone sees you down there, then you'd need a good explanation, and I do not want this project advertised before it’s got moving parts. Especially not by Summer,” he said, turning to Hunk. “Find out what kind of maintenance the lab needs to increase the server connection, and send it through,” His eyes flicked back towards her, and the firm, unmoving focus shivered down her back. “I’ll do my best to get something in line for you, but until then, unless it's an urgent need, I’d prefer not to take any of this beyond this room, or our personal interfaces.”

After that, the subject moved to resource acquisition, and some of the other problems that Hunk and Nadia had come across, and future requirements that they had brainstormed together, including the need for a medical tech specialist, and proper biological testing. Katie was quick to throw those in early when Keith mentioned he’d been interviewing for test subjects; the last thing she wanted to see was a repeat of what had happened at GalTech. She didn’t mention that, but she did bring up the necessity for proper cadaver testing. 

Keith and Hunk agreed to come back to it closer to the time when it would be relevant, and she watched as Lance made careful note of it, amongst all the others on updated software, preliminary material expectations, and what was unfortunately most important, their budget.

When Keith told them he had transferred one hundred and fifty to the project ‘ _to be going on with_ ’, she had to stop and think; it sounded like pittance until she remembered her conversation with Luxia and remembered what Keith considered ‘ _small figures_ ’. It wasn't a stretch to realise he and Hunk were just leaving off at the very least a ‘ _thousand_ ’ off the end of the figure, if not ‘ _million_ ’.

“…honestly, we still need at least one of those files opened,” Nadia sighed. “None of us can do much with incomplete and broken schematics.”

“Broken?” Pidge blinked, looking at her holodisplay of the prosthetic arm, opening up the file code and skimming her eyes for gaps or missing lines, irregularities. “Which section?”

“The connection files,” Nadia sighed. “I went in to get a look at them yesterday, to get an idea of what level they were currently designed on so I could start looking for potential med tech consultants, but as soon as I opened that section it just…” she made a noise that sounded like prehistoric connectivity failure, and Katie wince as she scoured the file.

She didn't see any patterns at first, but then slowly, she began to see it. A missing letter here, a deleted number there. Not enough to erase the base of the file or the schematic itself, but enough to prevent its display. “It didn't look like a code matrix, more like a deliberate alteration; it was very strange. “There is something,” she sighed. “But I’ll need to look at it more. If you find any more let me know. Is this the only one so far?”

Nadia nodded, and Katie glowered at the strange, tampered code.

“So besides the predictions and prep, the pressure is still on me huh?” she mumbled, squinting at her screen. What the heck was going on with this file? A billion evolving matrixes weren't enough? There had to be tampering the open files as well? 

Keith chuckled; the noise was small, brief, but it made even Hunk start, because it had been the most released sound throughout the entire meeting. “So it appears, Miss Holt,” he said. “How long do you need before you think you can make that happen? There’s no point in all of us wasting time before we can move ahead, so we shouldn’t make these meetings regular until you’ve managed to open the files.”

Katie wanted to bristle at the wasting time comment, but it was sort of the truth, and even she knew it was the best idea. Sitting back and looking at the screens for the three files she had open, running through the analyser, not to mention this new problem in the available data, she considered it.

“Two weeks,” she said carefully, looking from the corner of her eye at Keith’s patient but expectant gaze. “Give me two more weeks. If I finish something before then I can put an email out, or if I need more time, but I should have at least something by then,” she added, with a bit more confidence.

“Two weeks it is,” Keith nodded, getting to his feet “Is there anything else to take a look at before we go?” he asked Hunk. “I’ve got word back from the production teams and your stabilisers should be going into manufacture within the week; have you got a name for them yet?”

Katie mostly drowned out the conversation that picked up between Hunk and Keith, determined to refocus on her work instead of watching the pull of Keith’s trousers and blazer drape–admittedly _very_ nicely–against his arse. That wasn't productive. Or really matching with her own determination to maintain a friendly working relationship. Well, it was, but that wasn't really the kind of friendly she was going for.

“What? Already? I thought that wasn’t for another two weeks!”

“I got Tomita to do his job and get the funding in place so the material shortages could be fixed before I left last night. So? Have you thought of anything? I need something for Lowes by Monday morning latest.”

Turning her head a little, she took one last peek at it, before quickly turning her head back into her holoscreen when she caught Lance’s amused eyes on her. Focus. She needed to focus. She had a shit ton of work to do and the bare minimum of time to do it in.

She was getting paid to decode, build software, and design mechanics, not gawk at her CEO’s arse; as she brought up the files for her Rover, the sound the background  of conversation falling away completely, Katie began to question once again just how innocent her desire to unwisely accept the interface link Keith had sent her truly was.

She wasn’t doing a good job of convincing herself that it would be a purely professional motivation.in fact, it felt like she was taking a diagonal on exactly what kind of tone she wanted it to take, and she didn't need a two degrees to know she was in the midst of making an at best dubious decision.

Founders, this would be so much easier if Keith looked like Ulaz. Or that Tomita guy, and not… sleek fashionable suits that gave her a perfect view of his rear, messy hair, entrancing eyes and fucking sexy cologne. But then, if she had been approached in the same way by an older man, she probably wouldn't have even agreed to take the dubious sounding tests at his apartment, and by that logic, never ended up in a position where she even had the luxury to worry about what Keith’s arse looked like.

“You beat me to it,” a shockingly close and familiar voice said, bringing spiced musk to her nose. There was a bit of pressure on the back of her chair, and Katie started, looking up in surprise at the man in her mind, who had crept up right behind her. “I was just coming over to talk to you about this.”

Keith's arm leaned across the back of her chair, and after a moment where she thanked her lucky stars she hadn't been talking her thoughts to herself, she realised by the very sight of his lips moving-he’d kissed her cheek with those and now was a terrible time to remember that fact-that he was talking to her.

Looking at her computer screen, she realised that it was Rover. He was talking about her robot. The Taujeerian project. “About Rover?” she managed to get out, feeling her confusion in her voice as she spoke. He was giving her that look again-that focused one, and it was doing some unreasonable things to her composure.

Katie sat a little straighter as he reached out with his other arm over her shoulder, zooming in on the schematics for the robot. “Lance tells me you want to use phaser nanotech in this.” She could feel the warmth of his arm where it rested on the chair, and skimmed against her back; she couldn’t help but recall the lingering warmth of his fingers on her back, a week old, but seared into her physical sense. “Are you sure you want to go for that?”

“If I wasn't sure I’d have thought of something else,” she replied, sure and clear, the thud and tremor of an excited heartbeat hidden behind the words. “Why?” she asked, turning her head, trying not to be so conscious of the line in his jaw, or the plump and drag of lips she knew to be pleasantly soft as he chewed them thoughtfully.

“Just curious, talk me through all this,” he said; for a good ten minutes he remained as she explained the different things she wanted to do with her robots, how she planned to make them a combined unit with the datapads, the functions, a few places she was a little held up with, and most importantly, where the nanotech would be used.

Keith remained silent, but for a few questions when he didn’t understand something, letting her explain as he always seemed to when talking with Hunk or Nadia. Not once did his arm leave the back of the chair as he examined the work, but in spite of the warm atmosphere building around her, his strange, not quite rude, but intently focussed demeanour remained. When he did question, it was quick, bringing up other points in the design that made her feel like she was standing on her tiptoes.

 “Well, it's encouraging to see someone make something useful out of Summer’s garbage,” he said finally, still eyeing the holodisplay of the robot as he stepped away. “But if you want to use phaser tech in this, you'll have to present this the same way everybody else does,” he said finally. “I’ll get Lance to set you up with an appointment at next week’s meeting. You're sure you still want to?”

He studied her, and yet again, she couldn't help straightening under the penetrating gaze. “My entire design depends on it, so yes,” she said. 

He gave her a pleasantly crooked little smirk. “Then I’ll look forward to it,” he said, before his shoulders dropped a little of their tension, taking with it some of the previous intensity. “The package I sent you,” he started. “Everything’s in order? It wasn't damaged by the courier at all?”

The mention of the courier reminded her that she had the phone in the bottom of her backpack. “I- yes, it’s fine, I…” she fumbled for her words, not quite prepared for the conversation as she would have liked. Keith raised an eyebrow at her cat that had caught her tongue, and she took a breath. “…I'm just… not sure if I should really keep it.”

He blinked, confusion on his face as he leaned against the countertop. “Why? You need one don't you?” His expression was a sure sign he really didn't see what the problem was with buying a passing acquaintance a phone.

“Well, yes but,” Katie tried not to look at the baffled expression on his face, because while it was miles away from the intensity he’d had throughout the meeting, there was something a little too charming about it. “Keith, I couldn't even find a Myzax7 on a contract purchase when I looked it up, let alone handset purchase.”

“That’s because its not be released yet,” Keith said. 

Katie stopped again-Keith was good at making her do that-with that revelation. No wonder she hadn't heard of it if it hadn't even been released yet. “That’s…” What, exactly, was she supposed to follow that with? “…great, but I still can't accept it.”

“But you need a phone,” Keith repeated, that basic concept was the only one he understood. “Not just to keep up with your work here, your family, friends, all that, but to access your personal interface. If you don't re-register a new handset in two weeks you’ll be locked out of it. It’s basic digital security law, and you’ll be locked out of your work interface too, since it’s linked into that. You know that.”

“I do,” she assured him. “Of course I know that. I’ll just get a government handset.”

The air could have been dead between them after that comment; then Keith choked, a snorted noise that was almost a laugh. “No, I'm pretty certain you won't,” he smiled, far too confidently. “Those things are garbage, and I can promise you our servers would fry their nanocircuits.”

Katie knew that too. She hadn't used a government handset since she was a teenager, and the thought of using them again was painful. She’d rather go without access to her interface than settle for one of those.

“It’s too much,” she stressed, trying again to get through to his sense of reason.

“No it’s not, it's not in production yet, so it's not for sale,” Keith returned. “Besides, I owe you compensation for all the problems you got from Friday. This hasn't been released yet, so it still has some bugs to work through, but it should cover everything you need…” he paused. “…if you're really uncertain, I’ll put you down on the testing group for it? There are a few people already testing it but another won't hurt, and you did pretty well with those datapads.”

Katie bit her lip. She didn’t want to admit it, but Keith had made very valid points and honestly, if she hadn’t found it available or heard of the development, it made sense that the phone was still in testing. She also realised she might have met her match in stubbornness.

“That… might be better,” she said reluctantly. She really, really didn't need the phone. It would take a few weeks to get back into her interface, but it would be better than getting locked out not just from her personal one, but as Keith had correctly pointed out, her work one too. “If it's for testing, I think I can accept that,” she said finally. “Do I need to fill in any forms or anything?”

Keith shook his head. “Just a general list of anything you find is fine,” he said. Checking the timestamp on her screen, he frowned a little. “Sorry, I’d like to talk more but we need to get back to Vermillion. I’ll make sure I’ve updated you for the next meeting on a presentation time.”

He tapped Lance on the shoulder as he passed him, alerting him to their departure as his assistant conversed with Hunk, leaving only the spiced scent of his cologne in his wake before the lab door closed behind them. 

“And it begins,” Hunk sighed. “I’m going to have so much paperwork this week.”

Katie didn't pay much attention to Hunk’s comments, her eyes still on the door after Keith and Lance had left, her mind spiraling before she finally turned back to her diagrams.

After thinking about the entire exchange, or whatever it was, Katie opened up her emails once again, idly resigning herself to simple fact as the one from Keith showed up on screen; Matt had been right. She was mixed up. She dove in head first without thinking. It was exactly what she was doing right now.

She was completely mixed up in regards to Keith, and diving head first down a hole of her own making, blindly, and with no concern for where she would land. She ought to do the sensible thing, the pragmatic and reasonable thing that would spare her a mountain of headaches later on, and just delete the email now.

Eyeing it for a moment longer, Katie tapped onto the link, then she turned back to her rover schematics, the ‘ _ping_ ’ of the notification confirming the connection quietly echoing from her workstation. 

* * *

Iss. 9,971     Friday 16th Oct 2037     ₲4.97

**FORT GARRITT MORNING CHRONICLE**

_Hawkinovate Inc Announces Taujeerian Tech Investigation._

* * *

 

Hawkinovate Inc have announced an investigation into the flaws in Taujeerian seismology tech currently in development by the company’s main technology laboratories, Samasama. 

In a week dominated by bigger announcements from the Olkarian Kraydah Conference, the announcement comes as a small, but well received one from company Chief of Human Resources, Antok Duvall. Long time partner of Shareholder and chief company Kolivan Rolston, he has been a familiar face at many company conferences and press announcements since its founding.

‘ _I would like to personally assure our investors and the general public that a full investigation will begin this week into the causes behind the slip of standards and any other factors which have resulted in these delays. This investigation will be led by myself, alongside my fellow shareholder, Mr. Sampson, with full support from Mr. Hawkins, who will also be closely monitoring the results of the investigation._ ’ 

Mr. Rolston made the announcement during the company’s regular thursday livestream, which can be viewed in full below.

 **[VIDEO LINK]** **  
** **Stream Time: 18:07PM - Live Broadcast** **  
** _Livestream © Hawkinovate Inc._

The announcement follows in a growing trend within the company, as Mr. Keith Hawkins, CEO and owner, aims to return the company’s reputation, which has been falling under temporary management since the passing of Heath Hawkins, company founder, and Krolia Gastayer, thirteen years ago this Sunday.

When asked if the company would be paying respects, as it has done in previous years, Mr. Duvall said that there would be ‘ _a moment’s silence in the afternoon for anyone working who wished to do so, but it is and always will be a private family matter for Mr. Hawkins and Mr. Rolston.’_

_Article by Remdax Millsap. Photography © Vakala Moy-Lars._

* * *

 

 **The Hawkinovate Inc Tragedy:** A look at the public investigation into the Lubos City car accident, and how the resulting effects still affect the company today.

* * *

 

 **From:** KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG-East.mrt  
**To:** [ShayEiden@MSPCA-FortGarritt.FG](mailto:ShayEiden@MSPCA-FortGarritt.FG)-Central.mrt  
**Subject:** Count me in :)  
**Sent:** 16.10.2037 (17:43pm)

Hey! 

Sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday! Had a ton of work and prep to do for the projects I’ve been given. Long story short, my boss gave me handset that’s still in alpha testing, so I’m not completely locked out, but I’ll have to see what happens when I get around to linking it to the interface. You know how PDE Services can be. I’ll have a go tonight after I get home and tell you all about it later  :)

I’ll definitely be there to help out with all the fluff balls! Those waterdog pups are seriously adorable, but yeah, my tenancy has strict rule about pets. I think Xi might have a pet snake, because I’ve seen him with reptile care boxes a couple of times (and what I think were boxes of mice), but I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide a dog that big.

I’m pretty sure this is her weekend off from the club, and she loved it last time. There’s a few people I could ask here at the labs to help, so I might bring company, have to see who wants though. 

See you Saturday!

Katie   
xxx

* * *

 

“That’s it! I’m done for the weekend, shift change time; it is officially your turn Hunk.”

Katie looked up, pulling on her jackets as Lance slumped into the room; he was in a casual set of jean shorts and a polo-neck beneath a warm, woven jacket, but had been in and out of the labs all day today.

After the meeting the previous day, she hadn't expected to see him again, but this morning he’s shown up, and been back and forth like a yoyo (much to Lotor’s irritation, if Nadia’s gossip from Ina was to be believed). Mostly he’d been in the lab next door, Lab E, getting some up-to-date notes on the project in there.

Hunk had told her it was being funded by a private investor, so they didn’t have access to it. It itched her curiosity a little bit, especially now that Lance draped himself like a wilted rose all over Hunk’s desk.

“It’s fine, I think I can come up with something,” Hunk said, patting him on the shoulder as he shut down his interface for the night. “Hopefully.“So, how bad is it today?”

“He got here at five am.” Lance grumbled. “I nearly jumped out of my skin when I got to my desk and his head poked around the door.”

Katie couldn't help choking; she knew being at the head of the company, Keith had an early start. She suspected even a lingering link in term of stock and media presentation, and work at home. Unless he had hobbies? She’d never asked when they went to the dinner last week.

“Isn’t it your day off today?” Katie asked curiously, pulling on her rucksack.  “How come you’re even here anyway?”

“Punishment, probably,” Lance sighed, sitting up as though the movement took more energy than breathing. “No, Keith’s just trying to drown himself in work right now because he refuses to get therapy, and if left to his own devices he’ll starve or die of alcohol poisoning.”

Of all the answers she had been expecting, that had not been the first one that shot to mind. “I’m sorry, what?”

Hunk and Lance exchanged. A glance, and Hunk gave her a weak smile. “Lance is exaggerating a little–”

“Liar you know i'm not.”

“–But Keith gets a bit… overworked this time of year. Because of the accident,” Hunk said, ignoring lance’s snorting commentary. “This year is probably worse because Kolivan is retiring, but it’s just a bad couple of weeks in general, so we try to keep an eye on him.”

Accident. Katie felt like that ought to be familiar. After wracking her brains for a moment, she realised what they were talking about; it had actually been mentioned in some of the tech news sites and steams, which was probably why she remembered, but it was still strange to think about.

For some reason, though she knew Keith had inherited the company ownership from her own internet searches, she’d never really thought too much about how that had happened. The deaths of Heath and Krolia Hawkins had been newsworthy enough that they lingered in even her memory from being nine, and grumpy that nearly all the streams for her favourite tv programmes had been cancelled for funeral coverage.

Later, older and wiser, she’d been more conscious of how that had had an impact on technology at school, given that it had put a stopper on the company that had triggered developments in tech that had shaped her childhood.

She’d never stopped to think much about who they had been, and even working here, she’d never really made the connection that Keith was their son. He’d just been the crazy rich guy turned CEO who gave her the chance at her lifetime opportunity at landing a job with that very same company.

For all her brain cells, sometimes Katie wondered if Matt had dropped her on her head when she was a baby (no way her parents would have). Thank the founders Keith wasn't in the room, because if she’d asked a question like that while he’d been in the room she really would have put her foot in it.

“Don't worry about it Pidge, it’s not something you need to,” Hunk smiled reassuringly. “Have you got anything good planned this weekend?”

Katie recognised and was grateful for the opportunity to get out of the shallow hole she’d started digging. “I'm helping a friend with the open day that's being run by the MRSPCA centre where she works. Puppies, kittens, parrots, couple of snakes, maybe a Yalmor,” she shrugged, slowly heading for the door, desperate to get out of the Lab. “That sort of thing. I’ve been volunteering for their events since college, so it’ll be good to catch up with everyone again.”

“That sounds like a blast,” Nadia said; she too was making her way to the door, in a long belted coat in bright cheerful orange. “Could I come along? If they still need any extra hands? It sounds fun.”

A bit of the awkwardness lifted, and Katie felt her shoulders relax. “Yeah, they're always looking for people to help, it the big one in the central district, by the solar-hydro station?”

“I know the one you mean,” Nadia nodded. “Do you want a lift home? It's getting dark really early now, and the route to the station can be a bit dodgy even this side of town.”

“I’ll be fine, I have a weekly pass for the monorail,” Katia assured her. “I’ll let Shay know and send you the details when I get home then,” Katie smiled. “See you all later.”

And as stated, Katie made her way out of the building to the station. Nadia was right about the dark drawing in earlier, but there were plenty of lights all the same, and the streets didn't bother her as she walked the hour-long route to the station. 

She passed a square not far from the lab entrance, outside the lab boundaries themselves, where a few people were sitting chatting on the benches, some eco-plastic shopping bags and boxes sitting by their feet, or one man with a gruff beard, who had his nose in a holoscreen displaying a newsstream.

It would be good to get back in touch with her friends from Xanthuria. After spending all her time at the labs, and around Keith and Lance, she needed the gravitational pull back to a realistic plane of existence. Even Hunk had his moments, and while Nadia was from a background not unlike her own, she didn't have the same crippling debt problems, and could afford to use the flush from the Lab pay for luxuries (evidenced by the fancier clothes she wore reasonably regularly).

Reaching the monorail station some time later, she had to dig around in her bag for her pass as she rushed to get to the queue lines. The car had already pulled up on the track, the dull hum of its current waiting patiently to shoot the passengers to the next stop at high speeds through Fort Garritt’s sprawling metropolis.

She wasn't really looking, so when an angry voice barked at her to watch where she was going, and she looked up to find the guy with the paper, in a sleekish jacket and fashionably distressed jeans, glowering at her. It was kind of her own fault, so quickly apologising, she decided to head along the seats into the next car rather than deal with his glare on the back of her head.

As the passenger cars sped along the raised platform, she sat back with her earbuds, tuning out the other passengers and taking in the sight of the skyline. Even though she saw it every day, there was something enigmatic about it at night, when lights from holo-ads and screens lit it up, the bright glow glimmering on the clouds above.

Reaching her stop, she was halfway to her flat when she caught a reflection in one of the shop windows in front of her as she crossed over the road; for half a second it looked like the man with the paper was still behind her, waiting at the lights. Glancing over her shoulder as she reached the other side–just to double check–she frowned, looking through the group of commuters who hadn't made it through the light change in time but she didn't see him.

Sighing to herself–and blaming Nadia for putting needless worries in her head–she turned and brushed it away as a trick of the light. When she pulled on her curtains, and put all of her locks on her door once after making her way through it, she told herself, she was just being cautious as usual.

* * *

 

Sorry for the delay - I'm trying to stay a couple of chapters ahead of this monster, and the last chapter I was working on was... uncooperative, and I didn't want to post until I had something I was happy with.

I'm alive, I swear, things are happening. I'm knackered and need to sleep though, so hope you enjoyed the chapter :)


	16. Face in The Crowd

**From:**        KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG-East.mrt

 **To:**            SamHolt@UaineHouse.Marchanda-LíomaDist.OKA

 **Subject:** Update for you and Mum :)

 **Sent:** 16 **.** 10 **.** 2037 (07:21am)

* * *

 

Hi Dad, 

Just wanted to give you and mum an update on what’s been going on lately. Work is kinda crazy, but good. You’d love the labs here so much! I’ve got a heap of evolving code matrixes to decode for one project, and a big meeting thing to try and get nanotech approval for another, so wish me luck there!

In regards to my phone, I managed to get a new handset–I know what you're thinking, and no I couldn't actually afford one, but long story short it turns out there’s a trial for a new model at work and Keith found out, so he put me on the testing team for it after my loan application fell through (which is a different story I’ll save for when I have more time). 

I’ve filled in the paperwork to re-register it already; outside of home and work, my interface is still down but I should hear more on when it will be back to normal soon.

Going back out to the animal centre where Shay works to help out at their open day again today, and the monorail has just arrived, so I’m leaving this here. 

Love,

Katie.

* * *

 

**MRSPCA-Fort_GarrittCentral**

Annual open day from 09:00am to 21:00pm today! Come on down to Fort Garritt's Central MRSPCA Centre today and meet some furred, feathered, and scaled friends in need of a home! 

[ _Image inset of green birds with red and yellow faces, grey and black, blue and white, and other varied colours_ ]

[ _Image inset of several cats, surrounding a food bowl cluster, looking up at the camera_ ]

[ _Video inset of a group of approx twelve waterdog puppies, scuttling behind a woman with short, curly brown hair and ear plugs_ ]

Take a selfie with the pups, and take part in our raffle–win a week long trip to Bluve's famous natural beaches, or a year’s supply of goodies for your pets!

[ _Image inset of a small violet and green striped iguana in a large tank_ ]

[ _Image inset of a group of people in neon orange t-shirts displaying the MRSPCA logo_ ]

[ _Image inset of cakes and a man in a picture tagged_ **_@HaranMichaelOfficial_ **]

Enjoy some mini games for the kids like the parrot race as well as free drinks and snacks including these amazing cocktails and mocktails! 

[ _Video inset of a woman with medium length brown hair holding a cocktail shaker, pouring out orange drinks_ ]

You can also take part in the educational talks from our animal protection officers, guest conservation specialist **_@HaranMichaelOfficial_ **or help our volunteers! Whether you're looking for a new companion, or just want to show your support (or just be nosey) come on down and say hi!

_#Fort Garritt #FG Central #MRSPCA #Open Day #All Ages #Family Friendly #Fun #cute animals #free food_

[Like] [Comment] [Share]

**4 hours Ago   | 9.8K Likes   | 1.9K Comments**

* * *

 

 **Brian_Mearch:** Those lovebirds are so cute <3 Be there with my youngest later today!   
_2hrs_ | _56 likes_   | _Replies (8)_

 **AllieKarver5:** Ths is always such a good day! Had some of those cakes last year and they were amazing! Will definitely be back for the lectures too!   
_1hr15mins_ | 14 _likes_   | _Replies (2)_

 **BarringtonBoy99:** We’ll be there! Looking for a feline friend to add to the family! =^.^= <3 <3 <3   
_45mins_ |   _10 likes_   | _Replies (9)_

 **77_RyanTR:** I love the videos of the pups hiding behind the carers as soon as the camera gets in close. Little fluffballs are like ‘NOPE, NOT TODAY.’ Glad to see they've done so well after the news about them being delivered early! Those pictures were breaking my heart for a while </3   :’(  
_27mins_ |  _27 likes_   | _Replies (4)_

 **Redd188:** A strong army of volunteers as usual! Glad to see all the support you guys get!   
_19mins_ |   _57 likes_   | _Replies (7)_

 **NanciLillia:** Think I recognise one of those faces. Isn’t that _#XanthuriaGirl_ on the left? And in the cocktail video?   
_6mins_ |   _107 likes_   | _Replies (87)_

* * *

The house usually echoed with silence when Keith awoke at home. It was nothing like the dorms at Peribaldi, where usually he was woken by the other kids getting up and rushing for the showers.

At home, there was always peace and quiet, sometimes the clatter of Illun or his parents in the kitchen. Other days he’d hear the sound of Iverson reversing one of the cars in the driveway. 

The night before, Uncle Kolivan had arrived, and Keith had prepared to find him sitting in his dressing gown in the living room looking up the latest rankings in the football leagues when he awoke.

Waking up, he immediately knew something was off, because he could hear voices. Both through the gap at the bottom of the window where he’d opened it the night before to get some fresh air into his room after turning off the lab stream, and downstairs. The ones outside were massed and mixed, indistinguishable from anything besides the fact that there were many.

Peeking through the curtains, Keith could see a swarm of press at the end of the drive, beyond the solid black security gate and high wall surrounding the house. He’d seen reporters before. Sometimes his mum and dad did interviews at home, but while he'd always been introduced if he’d been home, they had never included him in them, and Keith knew that they weren't allowed to take photos of him. One had tried once at school and his mother had attacked the streaming service responsible with an army of lawyers, so it was rare they came up to the house.

Seeing the crowd outside was weird, especially since his parents were in Olkaria. Stepping back from the window, Keith pulled on a short dressing gown over his pyjamas t-shirt and shorts, and then headed for the stairwell; the noises here were louder too, and he could hear a holoscreen chattering indistinctly. Looking over the barrier, he could see Illun and Iverson talking to Uncle Kolivan’s partner, Antok.

Why was Antok here? Not that Keith didn’t like him, but he didn't often come up to the house either, and he hadn’t stopped overnight with Kolivan. Where was his uncle anyway? Was he already at work? Wondering if he could find out what was with all the reporters on the holoscreen–it sounded like a news one–Keith trotted down the stairs, intent on heading for the living room.

He stopped when he got closer to Iverson, and saw the tears, old but still damp on the man’s cheeks; next to him, Illun’s eyes widened, tapping him on the shoulder and mumbling something to the driver before heading towards the stairs, and instructing Keith that he had a choice of cereal or toast for breakfast that morning, shooing him to the kitchen before he could get anywhere close to a holoscreen.

“What’s going on with all the reporters outside?” Keith asked, after the morning greetings and once a bowl of chocolate puffed rice cereal had been handed his way. “Did something happen on one of the lab streams?” he asked. It was some kind of explanation, but not really. It still didn't explain why they were here, and not at the Kraydah conference. Where his parents actually were. This was all so weird.

Even Illun looked off, paler than usual. She watched him like a hawk as he ate, so he didn't even have the chance to sneak through to the living room either. Poking at his cereal he looked around, wondering where Iverson had gone.

“Is Iverson okay?” he asked Illun, after a reluctant spoonful. “He looked upset before he wandered off. Did something happen?”

Illun’s face tensed, and Keith watched her as she took in a nervous breath; there was definitely something going on.

“Illun?” Keith blinked, not quite sure what to make of her reaction.

“There was a bit of bad news last night,” She said finally, sitting down on one of the barstools beside him. “Mitch is having some trouble processing it at the moment. He’ll be fine,” she added, eyeing him sternly. “Finish your cereal, then go get dressed and bring your washing down. Mr. Rolston should be through after his phone call with the shareholders.

Biting back the frustration, Keith did as he was told, pausing to peer out of the window at the top of the steps at the reporters again before a pointed prompt from Illun made him hurry back to his room for some cargo shorts and a t-shirt and trainers; he had football later that afternoon, so there was no point in putting jeans on. 

Once he’d gathered the clothes from the previous day, he rushed back downstairs with the pile in tow; back in the kitchen, his uncle was leaning against the breakfast bar, voice low as he and Illun talked quietly. He too looked pale, like he’d been up for hours already, tired from sleepiness and whatever was making Illun on edge.

Looking up as Keith entered the room, dropping his armload in front of the washing machine, his uncle’s face brightened a little, but seemed to fall at the same time. “Hey kid,” he sighed. “Sit down for a moment, I have to talk to you about something.”

Illun didn’t even look at the washing, and instead put a gentle hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to follow his uncle’s request when the full weight of the tension in the room became apparent. Sitting down, Keith felt nervous and unsure as he watched Kolivan’s expressions. His eyes had a bit of red in them, like he’d been crying too.

“Kolivan, what’s going on?” he asked, a little impatiently. 

Illun put a hand on his shoulder–‘ _don’t interrupt_ ’–and Keith huffed, nervously watching as his uncle took another breath, before pulling his chair closer, leaning forward. 

Illun’s hand was warm and steady, until the sound of the interface buzzer echoed through the house, signalling that they had a visitor. Keith angled his head, wondering if one of the reporters had got brave, but Illun gave him a look, and got to her feet, heading to the door, already opening up an intercom by tapping her earpiece.

His uncle closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth several times, before letting out a breath. “I don’t really know how to tell you this,” he started. 

“Tell me _what?_ ” Keith groaned before he could continue. “Why’s everyone acting so weird?”

The door buzzed again, which was weird; hadn’t Illun already answered the interface alert? Keith ; think on it too much, his attention back on his Uncle, who looked a shade paler than he already had been.

“I’m sorry Keith…” he said, a shake in his voice that unsettled the cereal in Keith's gut with the words that followed. “…it’s about your parents.”

The conversation, or rather, the explanation that followed, made Keith feel like the ground had disappeared, like he had slipped from the barstool and instead of the marble floor, kept on going, until the final sound of a buzzer from the hallway jerked him out of his semi-restless sleep.

After a moment of feeling as though he had fallen from a height, which made him reach out for the bedcovers in shock and confusion until he realised where he was, he slumped, exhausted from the strange sensation that came with unpleasant memories.

The door buzzed again and Keith wondered if he could pretend that he was still asleep. Then again, there were few people who had the codes necessary to access his front door. Illun or Iverson would have just wandered straight in, so he knew it wouldn't be either of them.

The interface alerted him yet again, and Keith groaned, turning and hiding his face in the pillow for a moment, before shifting and cracking an eye open at the holoscreen beside his bed. Its bright glowing numbers informed him that it was nearly ten-thirty in the morning, so at least he’d got a lie in. That was something.

Another buzz echoed from the lower level, and Keith reluctantly pulled himself from bed, managing to find a dressing gown. The black cotton-cashmere and red piping one that had been good for the summer, and had been better than one of his thicker ones when he’d cranked up the heat to test Lotor’s datapad a few weeks ago.  It had been thrown over the iron railing that looked over the lower floor of the loft, and Keith crossed the panels and belted the garment as quickly as he could, speeding up irritably when the buzzer sounded _again_ as he made his way down the iron spiral stairs. 

He crossed past the sofas and kitchen, the spare room, and turned down the entrance hall. The door opened just as the buzzer began again, and Keith was ready to turn his glower on whoever had woken him up (even if the dreams hadn't been pleasant, he could have had another hour), then familiar dark skin and kind eyes greeted him.

“Hunk?” he blinked staring at the man standing in the doorway, in full casual mode with jeans and a hoodie. 

“Hey buddy,” Hunk smiled, wincing a little, presumably at the frazzled confused friend, and not the presentable CEO they were both used to. “Sorry to wake you up. I know you probably wanted a lie in this weekend before you went back out to the West district tomorrow.”

Keith shook his head, trying to wake up. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but” he held the door open, allowing Hunk inside. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I was kinda worried about you,” Hunk said, following him as Keith headed through to the kitchen. He needed something to wake up. Tea. Coffee. Bucket of ice-water. Anything.

Hunk’s admission made him pause as he fumbled around for mugs, and when he raised an eyebrow, his friend continued, watching him and leaning against the island unit that swept out from the bar.

“I just didn't want you to be left by yourself the whole weekend,” he explained. “I _know_ you don’t mind, and that you’re not planning anything stupid, you never have,” he stressed. Keith grunted in acknowledgement, finally finding a pot of green, dumping a couple of measures spoonfuls of the powder into each mug. “But this is the first time in a while that Kolivan hasn’t been back before or the day of the visit to the cemetery,” Hunk added, his voice a bit softer as Keith stuck the mugs under two of the spouts of the boiler unit. “I was really hoping you’d humour me for a little while. I’ve got something in mind.” 

Jets of water from two of the four spouts churned from the unit into the mugs. Once finished, Keith handed one to Hunk, nursing his own contemplatively. On the one hand, he really didn't want to go somewhere and potentially deal with press or public. On the other, this was Hunk, and Keith knew that his honest plotting came from the best of places.

“What kind of something?” he asked, sipping the hot tea.

“A distraction,” Hunk said vaguely. “Sort of, and I promise if you don't like it, you can leave and do…. Well, whatever. I won't push you. But I promise it’s not a strip club or something you’ll dislike,” he paused, sipping his own drink. “Katie and Nadia are going too,” he added. “They won’t know we’d be showing up but if they can tolerate it, it can’t be too bad, right?”

Keith sipped at his tea pensively, considering Hunk’s words; he wanted to try and say his friend was wrong, but hunk had known him since college, and there was no point in trying to lie to him. Keith would just feel guilty, and Hunk would know it for what it was anyway.

He wasn't too keen on the idea of a mystery destination, but Hunk had also rightly anticipated that he would probably turn down anything directly suggested. Had it been Lance, Keith would probably have already said no, and he suspected Hunk was more than aware of that too. Whatever he had planned, effort had been put into the planning just to increase the chances he would agree.

That was endearing enough to sway him, but he had to admit, knowing Rizavi and Katie were comfortable enough to do… whatever it was Hunk (and probably Lance) had planned, was reassuring.

Closing his eyes, he drained the cooler remains of his tea, and set the cup down in the sink. “Give me ten minutes to get dressed,” he said finally, watching as Hunk’s face lit up. “I don't need anything specific I’m guessing?” he asked.

“I’d advise against anything flashy or fancy. Something you can move in and clean easily, maybe?” Hunk suggested, putting his own mug in the sink. “Jeans and a t-shirt. Casual. Normal people stuff.”

Keith nodded, and leaving Hunk to his own devices, turned and headed back up the stairs, in search of a quick shower and some clothes that matched Hunk’s unfortunately plain–and therefore lacking clues to what his plans were–recommendations.

* * *

 

The central Garritt Marmoran Republic Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals centre was heaving within two hours of opening its doors to the general public.

It had been just as busy a year previously, and Katie wasn’t surprised to find it just as busy for her second year volunteering for it; families, young couples, a few school buses, and hordes of teenagers either skipping or between classes, a few veterinary and animal science students like Shay all made their way to the open grounds.

Built beside a power centre, it had a surprisingly generous amount of natural grounds, and the river running past helped make it feel a bit more welcoming despite the surrounding skyline of skyscrapers and offices and business buildings. The weather was a bit warmer than expected, but still cool, so she pulled on her thick thermal tights under a denim skirt she’d had since highschool. It had already been patched a couple of times, but it was too comfy with to part with, and went well with the orange charity shirts all the volunteers were wearing and some equally comfy, flat, mid-calf boots.

Romelle had raised an eyebrow, but she shrugged it off. She liked her jumpers and practical clothes, but she it was nice to change up her clothing sometimes. Our maybe it was just because she was more used to skirts again from the clothes Lance had bought and ‘ _borrowed_ ’ for her. It didn’t really make much difference; she had plenty of work to be worried about instead of what she was wearing.

Katie remembered her previous years of volunteering for the open day being busy, and this one looked to be no different. The entertainments were large and varied as the social media promotions had advertised, but Katie didn’t get much chance to see them for most of the morning. First she had been given the lucky job of feeding some of the younger animals with Shay and Nadia, a set of kittens and their mother who had been extremely malnourished upon arrival, and a less cuddly tank of snapping turtles that had been rescued from an irresponsible owner without an exotic pet licence.

After that had been some of the less pleasant jobs, like cleaning up the pens, before she ended up on the public side of things. She had started with Romelle for a short stint, giving people their entrance bands out on the grounds, before she had been directed to the refreshments area; there Katie dove back into her cocktail repertoire to make some mild drinks for the grown ups and fancy juices for the kids, or anyone who just wanted a mocktail.

The small stand was set up under a tarp shelter alongside a few street food stands hired from the city marketplace, and it was only her focus on the menu of drinks that kept her from dying of hunger from the delicious smells wafting from the food stands. 

That was when she noticed that her hair, because it kept getting caught in her mouth or laying a single stand irritable and invisibly over her face while she was working.  It was definitely starting to get longer again; she had to borrow a hair bobble form the guy with dreadlocks also helping with refreshments to keep it out of the way.

Besides that small issue however, the first half of the morning was good. Busier than she had expected, but it was nice to be doing something non-work related again.

At the bar she’d only had irregular days off, or had to request specific once's in advance. Now she was guaranteed weekends off, unless she wanted to work, or there was extra work required. It was nice to be able to do something on a Saturday because she wanted to, and be sure that she could.

Thoughts of work invariably led her mind back to Keith, and Katie couldn't help thinking about the interface link she'd accepted. She hadn't sent anything on it. She could definitely be sane enough to wait until Keith wanted to talk to her.  She didn't want to give the wrong impression.... though what impression that was she still wasn't sure.

Frankly, it was still something she had doubts about. Work relationship aside, she had to acknowledge that the media attention just from one evening in Keith's company had been—for want of a better word—insane. 

So she had refrained from contacting Keith since accepting the interface link. The only reason she was worried was because she couldn't really convince herself he wasn't attractive. Because he was. Keith was very attractive, and the last thing she wanted was to let her personal preferences affect her opinions.

Which sounded weird, but how else did she explain it? She would like a good relationship with the man because he was going to a firm enough presence in her work life, which she already owed to him anyway.  It was better not to encourage herself to follow up on curiosity sometimes; throwing undertones of anything else into the mix was only going to cause more confusion, and likely hassle, for her.

So far things seemed to be okay on that front. A few people had given her second glances, but aside from those and a couple of raised eyebrows, it seemed that public interest in her life was fading. Thank the founders. She’d been getting sick of pulling the hood of her coat up on the monorail during her work commute. 

Right now, however, she didn't seem to be having any problems in that regard, so relishing the calm, and temporarily casting her confusing thoughts towards her CEO to the side for the moment, Katie threw herself into her work.

Turning to the pile of oranges behind the service bench on another set of tables, she chopped them in half, dropping them into an electric juicer. While it was a warm day, it was still October, and hot drinks were in high demand. Some people were going for spiced hot milk, or heated cocktails, but something she had in mind for the kids was hot orange juice, with cinnamon and clove and ginger, and hot blackcurrant. Popular back home, the smells were always divine.

Probably too much; the smell of the hot drinks and food from the stalls was making her mouth water already, and she had only just started. In an effort to keep her mind off of the rich, warm scents that matches the wooly scarves and hats that bedecked the crowds, Katie found it an easy task to distract herself herself with her work.

* * *

 

Keith stared at the building in front of him as he and Hunk blended in amongst the throngs of people. “You wanted to come here?” he blinked, tuning his question to his friend. “Why here, exactly?” he asked, eyeing the group of buildings, and mass of people in confusion.

They had parked the car some distance away, mostly due to a lack of parking space, and Keith had relied on a beanie to hide his unfortunately somewhat telltale hair as they walked through the streets towards the rescue center. it was October, so a beanie wasn't too out of place, and they had arrived at the centre without incidents.

Nobody had batted an eyelid at him, which was a nice change. Keith had found it pleasant to walk around outside without being gawked at. Sometimes even plain clothing didn’t help, but today seemed to be lucky on that front. 

Then they rounded the corner of the walled building grounds beside the central solar-hydro station, and he had felt a little more confused about Hunk’s choice of entertainment for the day; when his friend had said distraction, his first thought hadn’t been an animal rescue centre. 

“Was this Lance’s idea?” he asked as they made their way along the pavement towards the building. It felt like something that Lance would come up with.

“No,” Hunk blinked, looking confused. “Pidge is volunteering, and Nadia asked her about it when she was talking yesterday evening and decided to join in. It seemed interesting?” Hunk said. “Lance might be here later, but he had a meeting with his sister-in-law to help with the advertising for one of her new palettes or something.”

Keith mulled it all over as they joined the queue for the door, absently wondering if they would be doing thumbprint ID checks. Katie volunteering didn't surprise him much, for some reason. It sounded like the kind of thing she’d take an interest in, even if only temporarily. He’d done it a couple of times, and it had been good to do, but he just didn't have the time to make it something regular. He was also conscious that doing it too much would come across as a PR stunt, which took a lot of the value away in his mind.

It was quicker and easier to donate, or take part in some more publicised charity functions, like the Snick Gala, or provide sponsorship endorsements, and in the long run, wasn't increased financial support more beneficial for a charity than one day of extra hands? Or was he being too much of a sceptic?

“Whatever it is you're thinking so hard about stop,” Hunk chuckled as they joined the queue to the gates. “I promise I haven't signed you up for anything.

Slightly more reassured, Keith pulled his beanie down over his ears, tucking it down at the back of his neck and pulling up the back of his jacket collar, glad for the warm zip up knit cardigan and polo neck beneath it.

They got to the check in, but if anybody had a double take when he gave over his thumbprint to register on an entrance band, which he wrapped around his wrist absently once passed the barrier, they didn't make any show of it. Or maybe they just had basic manners.

Once inside, it was simply a matter of looking around. It seemed to be more aimed at families, with games and competitions for the kids running around, a few food stalls. He took advantage of the street toast one for a chilli-cheese-bacon option to replace his missed breakfast as he followed Hunk around.

It was everything you would expect for a charity fun day, and it was a bit fun to mess around on the ring toss games and pick up some of the edible sweet treats from the volunteer stalls. Hunk signed him into a ‘ _help walk our dogs!_ ’ event in which he found himself being led around by an overly enthusiastic, tiny fluffy dog that barked at everything with unmitigated excitement, and then they went into the building itself to one of the bird and reptile discussions.

By the time they headed down to the tent area where the conservationist guy was doing a few talks, he didn't even mind the fact that it was a deliberate intervention; it had been a nice change, and moderately interesting. The staff and interns and volunteers all seemed to know their stuff, whatever angle that would be, and effective organisation was obviously producing good results if the number of _#AdoptionBirthday_ tags slowly building up alongside pictures of people with cats and birds and various other new pets on the venue’s Momemtograph account were anything to go by.

Sitting down on a set of the chairs that had been set up around a holo-display in a room that had been set aside for the talks, Keith even felt himself building some interest in the lecture. The man was talking about conservation and reintroduction of several old species that were taking place in Bluve, not too far away from the beach house.

Specifically, some fish species, turtles, and even a dolphin and seabirds, not to mention the land species on the list for reintroduction for the first time in centuries. A lot of Bluve's popularity as a holiday resort was from its role in ecological recovery and biological conservation, so it wasn't something he’d been unaware of, he just hadn't realised it had been so close by.

As in, close enough for the man to mention a marked out spot on his map of the conservation area as private land, at a detailed enough scale for Keith to recognise the general shape of the beach house he’d been going to as a kid for the majority of his life. It had been surprising enough he’d sent kolivan a quick message about it, and discovered it was part of  the reason they had bought the house in the first place.

Sure enough, the conservationist–what was his name again? Haran?–moved onto a section about reintroducing giant turtles, confirming his uncle’s words with the words; “…hatcheries being cultivated on private beaches, and thereby safe from tourist areas, which were donated by Heath Hawkins around fifteen years ago. The past few years we’ve started to see some of our grown hatchlings, whose eggs were developed and sustained here in the reptile centre before being transported to Bluve, return to form their own natural nests on the span of the beach.”

“Did you know about this?” he asked Hunk curiously, leaning to the side to speak in a low voice. Hunk had worked in EcoTech before, and just had a personal interest in it; Keith was half suspect he’d dragged him here just to listen to this guy.

“I knew your dad had supported a few environmental projects in Bluve, but that was it,” Hunk admitted, his voice soft with surprise as they watched the rest of the man’s presentation. “I didn't know he got into it this much.”

Keith almost missed the end of the lecture trying to wrap his mind around it all; he always know his parents were good people, and he tried to live up to that the way they would have wanted him to, or maybe hoped he would. He was less direct, but he tried, and kept track of all they’d done.

Aside from the work finance programmes for employees that Tomita was trying to break apart, they had built a couple of charities, including one for hippo conservation. Kolivan told him that had been because of Keith’s childhood obsession with them, and he was pretty sure there was a joke on the internet about it somewhere, but this was new.

When the lecture was over, and the digital displays put onto repeat for people to watch again while the conservationist did some Q and As, he went through every inch of it, trying to find something familiar. his had been during his childhood, so he ought to remember something, but he’d been more interested in beach football at one of the sport clubs on the public beach, or building sandcastles and swimming when he was ten years old. 

After they died, he’d mostly stayed at school or with lance during the holidays. Kolivan was usually only off for one week, and two days of that Keith had always spent travelling back from school. It didn't leave much chance for holidays at the beach anymore, aside from once with Lance and Hunk, or a few stays during the Bluve HydroTech Conference with Acxa, he hadn’t been back there for a long time, and none of those trips had really been holidays.

The group surrounding the lead speaker had thinned, and finished looking back over the holoscreen data from the presentations. Absently, Keith started fishing around in his pockets as he approached the man.

“Uh, Keith?” Hunk blinked behind him, looking up and quickly following as Keith finally found his card holder (experience had made him learn to never leave without it, even if he wasn't working), and slipped one out into his hand, replacing the holder in his pocket.

Keith ignored Hunk’s slight alarm and wary calls, instead making his way towards the group of students and people standing chatting with the researcher. He perked up at a new face and potential new question, and Keith was very relieved to see he was wearing a name badge.

“I was hoping to ask you about the beaches you mentioned that were being used as nurseries Mr. Michael?” Keith asked. “It sounds interesting and I was hoping to talk about altering the restrictions to the breeding grounds,” he explained, holding out the card when the man gave him a perplexed look. “…I think it would be fairly easy to increase the area you mentioned. Is that something I can discuss with you, or is there someone else I’d need to talk to about it?”

Mr. Michael had about the same face that Katie did when he handed her a business card; he could hear a few whispers around him starting, as people started presumably looking at his face shape and connecting a few dots, and Keith mourned the loss of peace and quiet, but it was worth it.

He hadn’t come here expecting to find something that his parents had invested in, but now that he had, a noisier day was worth it if he got to build on their generosity and see it grow.

* * *

 

**Keith Hawkins (@K-Hawkins) · ‎Momentograph**

https://momentograph.mrt/KeithHawkins

[ _Image of a dark haired man in black coat, cream zip-up knit cardigan, red polo neck t-shirt, black skinny distressed jeans, and high tops alongside a dark-skinned man with hair in a bandana, and a man in an orange charity t-shirt with greenish dyed hair_ ]

Learned something new today about turtles from **_@HaranMichaelOfficial_ ** at the _#FG Central #MRSPCA #Open Day._  I think my parents would have been happy to hear the project was becoming such a huge success. Hope it continues with the extra space. _#Conservation_ Many thanks to **_@HunkGaluvao_ ** for dragging me out today, else I’d have missed out on this _. #The street toast and dogs alone are worth it #and I never turn down free drinks #Fort Garritt #MRSPCA #Open Day #All Ages #Family Friendly #Fun #cute animals #free food_

Saturday 17th Oct 2037 – 13:47pm

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**45 mins Ago   | 11.8K Likes   | 5.7K Comments**

* * *

 

Katie managed to let her mind drift off into building the drinks she had been drafted into concocting relatively easily. She’d been mixing drinks since her early years of college, and it came back to her very easily. It shouldn't have been too surprising, given that it had only been a few weeks since she started her new job, but those few weeks had felt like a much longer period.

Picking up a shaker again felt a little strange for the first few mixes, but muscle memory kicked in quickly, and things progressed smoothly. All in all it was a good morning, and it got even better when Katie finished her long shift at the stall, and found herself partnered up with Romelle for her next job.

They were to be tasked with wandering the crowds in a bright, neon blue construction-style vest so that she would stand out to anyone willing to donate. Romelle eyed the blue id vest sceptically, pulling it on with some misgivings probably accrued to her tastes in colour combinations, with which it no doubt clashed.

“I promise after this one we can get some lunch,” Shay told them as she handed out a pair of handheld devices which would enable visitors to make donations with a simple thumb scan. “We’ll be back inside with the adoption teams later too. I can finally show you the waterdog pups!” she beamed excitedly.

“Any adoptions yet?” Romelle asked as Katie took the small device hanging it around her neck on the lanyard matching the vest she had been given.

“Lots!” Shay nodded. “But not any of the waterdog pups, she added, despondently. “I really hoped some of them would find homes today, but they were a bit put off by all the noise, so they didn’t go out onto the communal park from their pen, or even come out of their bed cave much,’ she said, waiting until Katie had finished pulling off her apron, and taking it for her own use. “Nobody can see them that way. I think they might venture out around dinnertime though, so maybe then.”

“Fingers crossed,” Romelle said, holding her fingers in the sentiment, earning a smile from their friend.

“Good luck!” Shay beamed, before turning to help refill the thirsty visitors queuing at the refreshments table. “I’ll meet you in the park for lunch!” she called out, before leaving the two of them to their newest task. 

“Lets go over to the seating area where they're doing all the talks with that specialist,” Romelle suggested once Katie had pulled on her own neon blue vest. “It looks like there's a crowd gathering there.”

“Shay did say he was going to be a big pull-in for crowds. Apparently he’s a big deal?” Katie said, following beside her friend as they made their way through the crowds past all the food stalls she was dying to get a meal from when their lunch break rolled around. She had brought food with her, but the smells were too mouth watering to completely deny, and it wasn't as though one street-toast would break her bank account. 

“I guess,” Romelle shrugged, “I'm just glad we finally got the chance to catch up for more than five minutes,” her old college partner sighed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “I'm glad you found that job, but I missed you; you're terrible at staying in contact, you know that?”

Katie reached her own arm up for Romelle’s taller shoulders, leaning into the one-armed embrace; she had not intentionally cut herself off from people, but it had been far too long since she last spoke to Romelle in person, and she did feel guilty about that.

Romelle had been her best friend since she started at GalTech, and their joint project had failed on the Sincline Open Day, ruining both their careers in the process. They’d started at Xanthuria together too, around the same time. Where Katie had been barred from getting into tech development thanks to the preceding reputation the incident had gained her, Romelle had recently finished struggling with her own microsurgery PhD, which she’d also been forced to continue at a different university.

Both of them had fallen a long way from their initial goals and plans, all because of decisions they had been forced to make by poor management, but they’d managed to track themselves back, and now Romelle was in the same position that Katie had been in a few weeks ago. Trying to find a job in her field with a ruined reputation and slim odds for a second chance.

If Katie hadn’t met Keith, she would still be in the same position, and sometimes she managed to forget just how crazy lucky she had really been. She was aware of the luck she’d been given, and also knew that in amongst all the upheaval and craziness that had stemmed from it, she had kind of been a terrible friend. She more than owed Romelle a real catch up after everything they’d struggled through together. Drinks and a night out at the cinema, a meal out, take in and crappy streams or binge watches of all the shows they’d promised to watch _‘later’_ in college when things were more hopeful. She would think of something, but for now, this would have to do.

“I’ve heard,” she chuckled, “but in my defence, this time it wasn't just me forgetting, or getting distracted.”

Dropping her arm, Romelle grinned. “I noticed, on the celebrity gossip streams no less,” she said, her violet eyes flashing with a curiosity that Katie had seen too many times before. “Seriously, catch me up on how the hell you got from selling whiskey sours to mixing it up with the literal richest guy in the world, and got a job out of it,” she added, and Katie internally cringed, knowing that she wasn't going to escape this conversation when Romelle’s arm looped around hers. “I heard bits and pieces but its sounds like all kinds of crazy so far, and I need to know if I should be worried about you or not.”

Katie smiled at the audible concern - the lower register in Romelle’s voice in her effort to avoid attracting attention.  “I’m fine,” she assured her friend, bumping her hip into her Romelle’s as she grinned up at her. “All you need to worry about is satisfying that gossip craving you've got.”

Romelle beamed, and the pestering questions that followed between the visitors that approached them soon passed the time into hours, and before they even realised, it was past the time Shay had told them to meet her. Katie did her best to give her friend a full, step-by-step account of the events that had led her to her new job. 

She left out the details about the dinner though, like how nice Keith’s cologne was, or how close he’d been the other day during the meeting, and the fact that he’d given her an unreleased phone. _And his interface link_. Those bits she kept to herself, mainly because she still didn't know what she thought about that yet, and wasn't ready to think about the inevitable questions Romelle would ask her.

She also really wanted her lunch, but making their way out of the lecture area, and the marquee that had been erected for the talks, was a different matter. They had been outside, and hadn't seen the talk, but following the end of it, there were suddenly loads of people heading in their direction, and coming out. Either passing them by or stopping to make donations, it was kind of busy.

On the plus side, they made a killing in donations. Easily over two or three hundred GAC on top of what they'd already earned in a few hours work before approaching the marquee, and in half an hour.

“Must have been a damn good talk,” Romelle mused, after a family headed away toward the food court after making their reasonably generous donation. “That was another thirty GAC. How much have you tallied here? I'm sitting on twenty two seventy six now.”

Katie quickly processed the latest donation on her own handheld, from a elderly couple with grizzled but friendly beards, and an adorable assistance dog who had been introduced as Molly (and had earned herself one of the pet treats all the staff had been equipped with on their utility belts simply for existing). “Thirty one seventy nine,” she said finally. “Do you know if these things have a limit? I remember the tech guy saying we’d have to register them every once in a while at the briefing this morning.”

“I think its ten thousand, so we should be fine, but we could clear them so there's a fresh start for the next pair before we head inside to the pens?” Romelle suggested, before she was caught by another group, students by the look of them

Katie’s stomach considered that for her, grumbling in complaint at the lack of fuel since her yoghurt and banana earlier that morning. It was way past when they had arranged to meet Shay, and she was starving. Maybe they should call the management staff and ask for someone to come switch so they could eat. And escape the hullabaloo.

For an educational section, she hadn't expected this area to be so noisy. As she tapped into one of the controls on her earpiece, trying to get into a channel with the event staff, she could hear some of the kids in Romelle’s group giggling, murmuring, and chattering, distracting her enough that her mind wandered back to the prospect of food.

The spice of the food court wafted through beneath her nose, and she frowned when the channels on the earpiece only left her with static and unanswered calls. Were they on their break? Surely there was someone there? They couldn't just walk off unless someone came to take over, and Katie mounted however much longer that would be.

She could smell the deep, rich scents of the food. Warm and musky almost, and it was kind of irritating, because it was making her stomach growl even more. She’d been looking forward to street-toast all day, and her box of fruit and veg salad.

“I’d like to make a donation.”

The words filtered over her shoulder, calm, unlike many of the people she’d spoken to so far, and Katie pulled her mind away from food, trying not to start at the unnerving closeness of the words. “That's great! Thank you for the support today!” she said, putting her voice back into that cheerful set she’d been using and looking up to the person who had spoken. “How much would you like to don…ate…”

Katie blinked several times, realising that yet again, the obvious had been in front of her and escaped her notice as she re-appropriated the musky spicy scent of the food to its true source; there, looking the most normal she had seen him so far in a pair of skinny jeans, red polo, knit jumper and a long black jacket that had blended him into the group of students, was the last man she’d expected to see today.

His cologne wafted under her nose again, and the surprise and close proximity, detailing thick lashes, some cold-coloured cheeks, and the bits of hair poking out from under the beanie she guessed was being used as a poor disguise, was enough to startle her cheeks into a flush she felt too keenly for comfort.

“Keith?” she checked, frozen in place, and also unwilling to move anyway. 

Katie was keenly aware of not just Romelle’s keen eyes on both of them, but her group of student donors, and a flit of voices building up around them from people passing by, but she didn't find it too much to bother her. She was too jarred by the swirl of excitement and the increase in her heartbeat that hasn't faded at all with the passing surprise.

“Hi,” Keith said, his tone almost bright as scratched the back of his head awkwardly, a small smile on his lips. “So, about that donation?”

* * *

 

So this chapter made me want to scream, and I had to split it into two which was not according to keikakku. 

 **Keith’s Clothing** :  [ Jacket ](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/balmain/slim-fit-double-breasted-cashmere-coat/1142644) ,  [ Cardigan ](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/brunello_cucinelli/cable-knit-cashmere-zip-up-cardigan/1091146) ,  [ T-Shirt ](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/brioni/slim-fit-embroidered-cotton-jersey-polo-shirt/1095357) ,  [ Jeans ](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/amiri/mx1-skinny-fit-appliqued-faux-snake-panelled-distressed-stretch-denim-jeans/1143862) ,  [ Trainers ](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/off_white/off-court-nubuck-and-canvas-high-top-sneakers/1133007?ppv=2).


	17. Charm to Disarm

The biggest problem with making an appearance at charity events, Keith thought, was the fact that sometimes (and he was in no way trying to be arrogant in his thinking, it was just the truth he’d learned to associate with most of his social interactions beyond work, Lance, Hunk, and Kolivan) when he did, it had a bad habit of detracting from the event itself, unless he could disappear fairly quickly.

With luck, he seemed to manage that after speaking to Mr. Michael, and taking a couple of picture for both their social media profiles. He’d done as Hunk requested and dressed in more subdued colours, mainly the dark, long jacket and jeans that looked way too much like background personality to a crowd. Once they got the photos and details hashed out (he made a note on his interface to contact the man who looked after the house when he got home, so he was aware of the changes and could liaise with the local workers for the project), Keith and his friend quickly made their way back into the mob of faces.

“That was a surprise,” Hunk mused as they walked together, looking around at the prize stalls, home craft tables, and charity merchandise sellers. One had some eBook codes relating to the talks, and they stopped to look through them curiously, or rather, Hunk did. 

Keith still had to sort out his social media for the impromptu donation so that they timed to the researchers properly, and he tapped away at his phone, hoping to get everything set up and queued while it was fresh in his mind.

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled, setting up a few of the crop sizes on the photos. “I wish Kolivan would tell me things like this sometimes. I get that he doesn't doesn't want me to take on more than I can handle, but if that guy had recognised me first and asked me about the beaches? That could have gone very differently,” he said, checking the conservationists’ profile to check that he had uploaded his own photos, before adding to his virtual timeline.

“Well, yeah,” Hunk shrugged, looking away from a book on one stall about inhospitable areas of the planet currently in reclamation to raise an eyebrow at him. “But that's not what surprised me. I'm surprised you actually broke cover to do that, you normally just ghost these things and send a credit transfer. Did it… bother you that much?”

Keith recognised the tone immediately, the concern, and deliberately avoided looking at Hunk in the eye. “Not the way you're thinking,” he said, after a few moments. “I just wish there was an easier way to do things like this,” he shrugged, flicking his eyes around at the crowd, just to make sure they were still staying out of notice.

As he looked around, a familiar profile crossed in front of a group of teenagers in their school uniforms. He wasn't close enough to tell for certain, but was that Katie? In the blue vest and orange staff t-shirt?

Hunk had mentioned that she was volunteering with Nadia, but he’d been more concerned about the destination earlier, and rapidly forgotten. Now that he thought about it, he kind of wanted to see if it was her after all…

“Are there supposed to be people walking around for making donations?” he asked Hunk carefully.

“Yeah, the people in the neon blue vests,” Hunk said, opening a small interface beside the holodisplay of eBooks and holding his thumb up at the ID request to make his purchase. “But they probably won't be able to manage your kind of donations. You planning on leaving soon?”

“I want to go up and clean up the memorial a bit,” Keith nodded, taking a quick note of where the two women had headed. 

He could see students, hordes of teenagers, a few couples wandering around, children and parents taking selfies at the miniature zoo that had been set up. After another look around, he finally caught sight of them. Surrounded by people it was hard to make out, but the neon blue attention-grabbing gear helped immensely. 

They were heading off towards the marquee again. There was another talk happening, and while he was curious, he also reminded himself that it wouldn't be in his best interests to go back and risk more exposure. Especially over a chance sighting of a woman he barely knew.

Despite the earlier fuss, since leaving the area, he and Hunk had avoided any extra hassle. He’d be better off finding something to eat, giving the centre some money, and leaving before his luck ran out rather than going after a girl he’d accidentally mired in minor scandal by association.

The problem with all that reasonable thought was, however, that he didn’t want to do any of that. Peeringover the heads of the other faceless figures that held no concern to him, Keith looked around, making sure he hadn't lost sight of the pair. They hadn't yet walked too far, and he could be over and done with the donation before anything got out of hand. Then he could be on his way with nobody the wiser, even if it wasn't Katie.

“I’ll have a look around at the rest of the stalls and get something to eat, get Iverson to meet me,” he continued. “I’m glad you dragged me out, but there’s not much point in staying any longer than it takes to look around at everything.”

Hunk nodded. “As long as you’re okay with that,” he assured him. “I promised you could leave if you wanted to, didn’t I?” he added.

Keith clapped his friend on the shoulder, and as Hunk finished up at the stall, Keith pulled his beanie down over his ears, flicked up the collar of his coat, and headed back toward the marquee. The crowds inside had picked up, and he knew from experience it would start moving away from the epicentre created by media exposure in a while.

Skirting the edges and staying beyond the tent itself as people made their way inside for the next of the talks–something about similar conservation efforts in the mountainous areas in northern Altea–Keith tried to keep his eyes on the pair of blue vests.

There was a crowd of students already there, and as he hovered amongst the fringes of the group, he tried to unobtrusively get a better look at the two volunteers. He didn't recognise the blonde one, but the profile of the shorter woman was definitely familiar; the back of her hair was nearly identical to Katie’s, her posture too.

It took a few more profile glances before he was certain it was her though, and the sound of her voice as she thanked one of the students who had donated, then turned to speak to her co-worker. Sure enough, it was Katie, dressed into the centre’s ridiculously bright colours. 

The t-shirt and vest clashed horribly, but that probably had been deliberate on the part of the organisers, and the patched skirt was quirky. A mish mash, a bit like his jumbled thoughts about the woman herself. 

He’d justified the interface link and the phone with the fact that she would need them for work, and he couldn't afford any hold ups with the arm, but honestly, it didn't feel like he had the right motivation behind it when he knew he was attracted to her. He’d had to keep reminding himself that not only was flirting with an employee a bad idea, but an unprofessional one as well, just to keep himself in check. 

Acxa’s pointed remarks had been irritatingly correct; he didn’t make a habit of thinking about the end of the dinner, how easy it had been just talking for exactly that reason. When he cast his mind back to the evening, remembered the naturally subtle nuances that had slid into the conversation, that it made his pulse start to quicken in his throat just thinking about how close they had ended up being in the car (and more so when he thought about what he wished had followed).

Keith found himself looking for excuses to be around her, and to make it worse, Katie didn't seem to be objecting to it. Now here he was, sneaking around at charity events instead of avoiding crowds he’d already thrown a bit of bait to with one public exposure, risking yet more all because he’d remembered she was helping out today, and just… wanted to see her.

One of the people in the group of students was looking in his direction, eyes flicking between him and her phone then, a little more worryingly, towards Katie as her friends finished up with the blonde-haired woman. Realising he was starting to run out of luck, he made his way through the rest of the people.

“I’d like to make a donation,” he said, voice loud enough to be heard, but also making an effort to be unnoticed by the surrounding people as he came up behind the pair.

Katie started, then turned her attention back to her handheld, turning towards him as she tapped away. “That's great! Thank you for the support today!” she said, in a voice he’d heard her using at the bar with the other customers, before her clear, light, welcoming brown eyes looked towards him. “How much would you like to don…ate…”

Her voice trailed off, and he stuffed down the amusement that came from the surprise stealing across her face. Her cheeks were a little flushed with the cold, an endearing combination with the ridiculous colours and surprise. “Keith?” she checked, eyes bright with surprise and shock, wide pupils, and a flush on her cheeks he couldn't help but wonder was wholly the product of the chilly October afternoon. 

“Hi,” Keith said, scratching the back of his head, finding his words a little lost, smiling in spite of himself. “So, about that donation?”

The blonde woman was staring at them between the student donors that lingered, with all the curiosity that he saw in Lance whenever some new tidbit of office gossip caught his attention, but Keith kept his focus on Katie. He felt kind of bad for putting her on the spot now, but she recovered from her momentary fluster quickly.

“N-No problem,” she said, shaking herself a little  and focusing again on the handheld. “The options are on the screen, you just need to check your digital id against the scanner once you've made a selection,” she added, holding it out after hitting a few of the buttons. “Sorry, you surprised me,” she laughed a little, but face bright and open. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Hunk took me on a mystery tour,” he chuckled taking hold of the machine. He held a breath for a moment as his fingers brushed up against the smaller ones that offered it out, before looking at the options. Five, ten, twenty-five, fifty, a hundred, and two-fifty GAC were the presets, but there was a custom button, and he tapped into that instead, idly wondering if that had any higher limits. “I didn't know I’d be here either, but here we are.”

“Hunk?” Katie asked, looking around. 

“He’s still exploring,”  he explained, concentrating on the screen in front of him, looking for a better payment option. “I was thinking of heading home soon, so I left him to it.”

Aside from being able to be more generous, smaller numbers just vanished from his bank statements and it was more difficult to track what he was spending. He didn't want to use his daily expenses account either. That was precisely for small numbers, like food, but he didn't want to mix donations into an account which had a different purpose. It listed a limit of mixed numbers and he frowned a little, before switching to a different card.

“I’m guessing there’s a limit on what this can register?” he asked, looking back at Katie, who was watching him as he typed with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah, they can only register around ten-thousand… why?”

“Just curious,” he said, before settling on a payment that made up the limit on the machine, checking off his thumb scan, and handing the machine back to her. “Are you here for the whole day?” he asked curiously.

She nodded. “One of our friends from GalTech is an intern here,” she explained, gesturing at her blonde friend, who had finished up with her group of students, and giving them curious looks. “Romelle and I started helping out during college a few years back. It was a nice break from the club then. I was on the drinks stand earlier, but after this we’ll be inside in the animal pens to-”

Katie was interrupted by a small beep on her earpiece, and she turned away for a moment, talking to the person on the other end of the connection, before looking around the crowds. Then she waved, getting the attention of two more people in blue vests.

“Finally,” her friend–Romelle?–groaned. “My stomach is about to eat itself.”

Keith ignored them as they handed over the handhelds, instead glancing around at the crowd. There were a few people with phones out already. He needed to head off somewhere else, or just plain leave. He really should just leave. It had been a good day so far; if he had to deal with too much crowd drama, it would ruin it, and he didn't want that.

“Keith, are you heading home?”

He started, turning back to Katie, who was now sans handheld, and had pulled off the bright neon vest. “What?” he blinked. 

“Are you still heading home? Or going off to another part of the grounds? We’re heading to the food court and meeting Shay up at the park area the kennels look onto, if you want to come?”

The reply of yes froze on his tongue almost as soon as Katie had finished asking him her question, but he wasn’t sure if it was a ‘ _ going home _ ’ yes or a ‘ _ come with _ ’ yes. Looking around again at the crowd–who were getting obvious enough with their picture-tanking that Katie and her friend had started side-eying them too now–he weighed his options.

He could do the reasonable thing and just get out now. Avoid becoming the spectacle instead of the open day itself, and any more unwanted momentograph photos. Or, he could go with Katie (and her friends, he reminded himself, her friends too) for food as he had initially planned, with the addition of company, and throw caution to the wind.

“I was going to get something to eat, before I left,” he said finally, looking around reluctantly at the slowly building flock of busybodies. “But something happened with one of the conservationists earlier and the reporters, so it’s probably better if I go.”

Katie glanced to one side at a woman tapping away on her phone, biting the inside of her cheek. “I guess,” she sighed, reluctantly, and a little despondent with the reply. “We probably won't get long to eat before we have to head inside anyway. It's always crazy in the afternoon.”

He nodded, and the reluctant silence lingered in the air around them as they both fidgeted, unhappy with the outcome of the surprise invitation, and unwilling to act on it yet. “I could bring breakfast with me next time there’s a… Voltron meeting…” he said, feeling awkward with Lance’s stupid codename.

It must have shown too because Katie snorted, quickly putting a hand over her mouth to stop it getting too loud. It broke a little of the tension, and he smiled wryly, fixing his coat collar (again) so he could distract himself from the slight embarrassment as her laughs got a little louder behind her fingers.

“We could eat inside?”

Romelle interrupted them both, raising an eyebrow and holding up her own phone. “I just messaged Shay and asked, and she said there's a room for staff inside the kennels we can use?”

It would be better, and warmer, not to mention he’d probably be able to find someone he could talk to about a better donation. 

Katie was watching him, her expression anxious, but not unpleasantly so. There was a tingle of excitement hovering in it, and it was spreading. “Would that work?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

Keith thought about doing the sensible thing, and distancing himself from the brewing attraction he really shouldn't be letting into his decision making process by taking the chance to change his mind, but the tone in her voice, a bit less reserved than it had been in their meetings at work, and the subtle gnaw she drew on her lip as she waited for a response, was more convincing than any rational thought could be.

“I don’t want to cause any problems just for street toast,” he said. “But I think so,” he nodded.

* * *

 

The stalls had a mix of things–balls of fried fish, chips, noodles, even some soup stalls that smelled inviting–but having been exposed all day to the scents, the only choice for Katie was the street toast stall.

Wit great relief, she watches as the server wiped a slab of butter across the hotplate, caramelising the air before square moulds were filled with the eggy veg batter next to slices of perfectly square bread, toasting and filling the air with moreish aromas. 

Given her decision to splurge on her lunch, she also added some cheese and bacon to the order, and the strips of smoked bacon were cooked alongside the eggs, heaps of mature white hard cheese piled atop the egg slice once it had been flipped, just starting to melt when it was assembled with the bacon between the toasted bread with lashings of spicy chili sauce and pickled veg and greens.

Sustenance was only one matter that needed her attention however, and after getting their food, Katie made quick time in pulling Romelle away from the queue as they waited for Keith, linking her arm into her friend’s to pull her close, and avoid being overheard.

“All right,” she demanded of her friend, who had a smug expression on her face as she sniffed at the layers of egg and veg, shrimp spicy sauce, and fresh greens between her toast. “What exactly was that?”

Katie wasn't sure how well she had done in keeping herself collected after Keith had popped up. It was one thing when she was at work; it wasn't weird to see him there. In fact, it was kind of expected to see him checking up on the other labs every few days, passing by the windows as he and Lance made their way along the hallway to Lab E, or around the corner to Lab A.

Running into him here was unusual. Unexpected, and being thrown off like that had thrown off her usual professional composure, too. For a while she thought she had everything back under control, then Romelle had invited Keith along with them for lunch, and all the workings of her mind, her mixed up thoughts on the man, were laid out as a result.

She had nearly been stuttering trying to get the words out and had been way too disappointed than she ought to have been when he initially said no (and not without good reason if the crowd that had been gathering with phones pointed on their direction, little whispers, and blatant pointing had been anything to go by). Then the opposite when he had changed his mind.

Romelle took a bite of her toast, some of the sauce dribbling at the edges of the bread into the bio-plastic container. “I could ask you the same thing,” she teased, curious mischief in her eyes and grin after her bite of her food. “I haven’t seen you so flustered over another human being since our first year at GalTech,” she added, turning and glancing back at Keith, who was now at the front of the queue to the stand. “…Not that I can blame you. I’d get distracted working with cheeks like that too.”

“Romelle!” Katie choked, quickly looking gain to make sure Keith could in no way hear what was spewing from her friend’s mouth, huddling against the side of the cattery building across the courtyard from the food and drink stalls. “Maybe not so loud where there are this many people?”

“Sorry,” the blonde woman apologised, looking a little sheepish. “But seriously,” she continued, in a lower tone. “You were all over the place when he showed up. You looked like you’d watched someone kick a puppy when he said he wouldn't be able to stay.”

Katie had refrained from giving Romelle any details about what exactly had happened at the dinner on purpose, and now she knew it had been the right decision. Mostly because she now had to get herself out of a conversation she was in no way ready to even think about.

Letting out a breath, she ran her hands through her hair, trying to think of something that would satisfy her friend, and keep any more questions at bay until she was better prepared to deal with them. 

Glancing over her shoulder again to check that Keith was still waiting for his food, Katie eventually settled on a shortened version of the truth.

“It’s nothing, okay?” she said, watching from the corner of her eye as Keith picked up his order from the stand.

“Pants on fire, Katie,” Romelle scolded between another couple of mouthfuls. “If it was just you getting flustered, I’d believe it, but you're a terrible liar, and he wanted an excuse to stick around just as badly as you did,” she stated bluntly, before the disbelief faded, and creases of concern crept into the corners of her eyes. “It looked like a lot more than nothing to me. Tell me honestly,  _ did _ something happen that night you went out? Something the streams didn't find out about? Did he pay you off or something else shady like that?”

The concern mitigated much of Katie's panic. “No, nothing like that, I swear,” she assured Romelle. She looked over her shoulder again, watching Keith slowly trying to work his  way out of the crowd, with another familiar face, as she tried to think of something that would satisfy her friend before he and Hunk joined them. “I just… we had a couple of drinks with the meal, and the ride home was a bit… intense, but really, nothing happened.” 

Which was something that continued to bother her, because she had very much wanted it to, but Katie didn't go on to explain that part. She had a feeling that Romelle would figure it out from four years of friendship and their combined experience of GalTech hell anyway.

Before Romelle could offer any more questions, Katie caught sight of Keith and Hunk making their way through the fringes of the crowd, and waved at them both, effectively cutting the conversation off for the time being.

She knew Romelle would want to know more later, and maybe it would be good to talk to her about it, get a clearer head like she had with Matt, but for now, Romelle was willing to let it drop as the two men approached them.

“Sorry that took so long,” Keith apologised, unwrapping the toasted bread sandwich in his hand. “I think they had to start a fresh batch of eggs, and I figured I might as well wait for Hunk when I saw him,” he added, pointing at his friend.

“Hi Pidge,” he waved.

Katie waved back, unwrapping her toast and taking a bite as she followed Hunk and Romelle, who had started to give each other polite introductions, towards the kennels.

It was a large circular building, a ring that followed around a well-kept central circle of grass, which was filled with people sitting on the benches, or walking around with the dogs and a few of the staff, in the process of adopting or just getting to know the dogs. 

A few boxes of dog toys were dotted around by a few doors into the main building, and treat dispensers, and it was past a set of these that Romelle led them, through one of the doors and inside the kennel itself.

Shay and Nadia were waiting just along the hallway, and waved enthusiastically, but Nadia's raised eyebrows and the slow shock and recognition forming on Shay’s face were obvious. Luckily Shay had more tact than to gawk, and Nadia was semi-used to seeing Keith, so it was immensely better than being outside would have been. The pair lead them further down one of the halls to a staff room.

It had a small kitchenette, and some sofas which everyone made a beeline for, except for Shay, who set her food down on the counter. “I'll be back in one minute, I have to go and check on one of the litters and make sure they're eating,” she apologised. “I won't be long though.”

As she left the room, Katie took her seat, a little lost as Shay left, and Hunk and Nadia chatted away with Romelle. Beside her Keith had taken off his jacket, and she couldn't help sneaking glances his way between bites.

Though now that Keith had agreed to come along with them, Katie found herself at a loss for words. She hadn't been in a normal social context with the man, and now that she was, relatively at least, she had no idea what to talk about.

He looked completely different right now. True, his clothes still had the cleanliness and crispness that spoke of dry cleaning, and neat finishes that indicated they were also at a different quality level, but it wasn't just the clothes. His entire demeanour was different outside of the polished and expensive suits. 

The set of his shoulders was more relaxed, and the tone of his voice was less reserved. As she watched his expressions, she realised that even they were less tense. Maybe a little more open as he chatted across the coffee table with Hunk, talking to Nadia and Romelle about the seminar they had been to.

It was enough that she didn't know what to make of it, and that she got a bit lost again watching his eyes, the way his eyes glinted in the light through the windows, and the lines in the corners that appeared with a bit of laughter. 

“…re you okay?”

It sounded warm, like the general presence on the sofa cushions beside her. He was inches away from her and her skin tingled, thrilling in the closeness, and bemoaning the fact that unlike the back of the car, this time she couldn't slide a little closer without getting raised eyebrows from the extra company.

“Katie?”

Blinking at the sound of her name, Katie realised that she had not only been staring, but judging by the amused curl at the corners of Keith's lips, and the knowing set of his eyes, that Keith had caught her doing so, and knew exactly where her gaze had been.

“Sorry, I wasn't paying attention, what did you say?” she asked, hoping to recover from her momentary lapse. “It's been a long morning,” she added, hoping she could wave it off as energy depletion and quickly turning her eyes back to the safe remains of her food.

“Hunk was asking if we got to see any of the talks while we were on donation duty,” Romelle supplied. “But you looked like your brain had shut down for a bit of rest so I was talking about how crazy it was,” she glanced at Keith. “That was really generous, by the way. You should ask Shay if you can tag along when we go round to help clean up the pens and check the dogs later.

“Wait, what?” Katie blinked, now completely lost. “What was generous?” she asked, looking between the other four. Keith deliberately avoided looking her in the eye this time, and so she turned to Hunk instead, who rolled his eyes.

“Keith found out some of the land being used by the centre for the reintroduction scheme in Bluve being run by the centre was originally donated from private land by his parents,” he explained. “So he went up to that Michael guy in the conservation tent and asked him about it, then he phoned the people who look after his house in Bluve, and he basically gave them more beach space for the nesting grounds.”

Hunk said it so casually that it was almost ridiculous, but in all honesty, it wasn't so hard to believe; Keith talked about thousands of credits like they were double digits, so the fact that he happened to have a beach house in Bluve, one of the last remaining natural areas on the planet that hadn't been degraded by previous century technologies, wasn't surprising in the slightest.

“It’s just land, and I'm not using it,” Keith shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. “It's not that much,” he said, with the same nonchalance that he’d used when he’d paid her wages for the night during her strange recruitment process.

Hunk frowned. “I think it kinda is,” he disagreed. “You gave them six acres Keith.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s not like I was using it.”

And before Katie could delve more into that revelation, they were all distracted by the sound of scuffles and whines as the door opened again, and Shay retuned, her arms full with a dog food box and bowl, topped off with a fluffy, blue-furred puppy who twisted and licked at her chin in bids for attention.

He had golden eyes, with bright blue markings and stripes both on his face and through his thick, fluffy, dark blue fur, and a thick, stumpy tail. As Shay set him down on the floor, he looked around at them all, sniffing the air nervously, before pushing behind her legs with a disgruntled whine.

“Sorry, this little guy has to join us,” she said, her tone anxious. “His littermates bully him and he wasn't eating enough so the lead vet decided he needed to be fed by himself. Normally we feed him in an empty pen,” she explained, depositing him on the floor. “But they're all full with all the people here for adoptions, and I don’t know where else to take him.”

“I don't think anyone objects to that,” Romelle said, holding her hand out. “Hey little guy! Hi!” 

The pup gave it a tentative sniff, but despite appearing content, he whined when her fingers gently scratched behind his ears, before scampering back to hide himself behind Shay’s legs.

“How long have you been feeding him like this?” Nadia asked as Shay poured out some of the dog food biscuit into the bowl, mixing it up with a can of meat she had also brought along.

“Maybe a few weeks?” Shay guessed, taking the bowl and her own food over and setting down in the free spot beside Keith. “They were all hand fed as pups so it wasn't a problem until they started solid food,” she shrugged, watching until she was sure the puppy was chowing into his food before starting her own. “I was really hoping he’d get picked today, but he’s been too scared to go up to the glass, so nobody noticed him, and the front desk will have to stop letting people through in a few hours.”

The pup sat a corner of the sofa beside Shay’s feet, his face buried in his food bowl as they ate. Shay gave them all a bit of information on how the group of puppies had arrived at the centre. Their mother had succumbed to an infection when they were around two weeks old, so for the most part they were hand-reared, and already very used to people. Or, most of them were.

The one currently sniffing around their feet, testing the air with his nose and investigating Keith’s shoes, was less eager for company, and Shay, as she had already told them, guessed it was because of the food-fighting amongst the litter recently.

“So?” Romelle asked, her gaze directed across the room at Keith, who had held his fingers down over the edge of the sofa for the pup to sniff at for assessment. “How about it? You wouldn't mind an extra hand with the pens, would you Shay?”

Keith for his part, looked a mix between confused, and a little horrified as he realised what he was starting to get dragged into. “I’m not sure, I don't think I’d be much help,” he said, trying not to agree without offending anyone. 

“Oh! No, of course not! If you’d like to join, that would be wonderful!” she beamed. “It’ll be very simple for the volunteers anyway,” she assured him. “Cleaning out, that sort of thing. It’d be nice to have an extra hand. My team is a little short compared to the other interns’ so any extra hands would be great!”

Katie watched as between the curious licks at his fingers from the puppy (who had clearly found some of the buttery melted cheese juices from the street toast), and Shay’s genuine, endearing and enthusiastic encouragement. She could almost see the cogs turning in his mind; if he said no, he’d look like a jerk.

Which would be an unfair assessment. Keith didn't strike her as a necessarily bad person. He just had a different way of expressing it. Like in ten thousand GAC (she’d checked her handheld before giving it to the relief team) and six acre land donations. Honestly, that wasn't really bad either. She knew direct help was always good, but the money and land would go a long way and benefit the centre in different ways than scrubbing some dog kennels or running a bake sale ever could. 

It would still be weird though, and with five pairs of eyes on him (six if she included the puppy, who was probably very interest in the remains of his toast), she couldn't help feeling a little bit bad as his shoulders deflated. Direct, hands on involvement wasn't really his style. He’d mentioned a housekeeper during the weird midnight interview at his apartment, hadn't he? Even if Keith knew basics, she didn't imagine he did much in the way of his own cleaning on a regular basis, and he looked completely out of his comfort zone at the prospect of cleaning dog kennels.

“I guess a few hours won’t hurt,” he said finally, his eyes flicking down to the puppy, who yipped, and scooted under the sofa behind Shay’s ankles again.

“That’s great!” Romelle grinned. “Katie was going to be by herself, since Shay has to do record work while we do all the messy stuff, so you can give her a hand!

Katie started, paying a little more attention to the conversation unfolding before her. She was going to be what now? Since when? She didn't remember that plan at all. They were all taking on the pens individually weren’t they?

Catching her friends eye, Romelle’s smug eyes and conspiratorial grin behind her reusable coffee mug cleared up any and all confusion, and Katie suddenly felt the nervous, dry mouthed realisation of exactly what her friend’s declaration would imply.

She would be alone with him. She hadn't been alone with Keith since the end of the dinner, when she’d nearly invited him into her flat. Keith, who had an unreasonably disorientating effect on her rational thought, and some features that were way to distracting for her well being.

The thought made her feel like she was fizzing with nerves and anticipation, and looking from the corner of her eye, she met her glance against Keith’s wide, purple Naczellan eyes. Her gave her a crooked half smile, and her breath stuttered in her chest.

“I think I can manage that.”

* * *

 

The following twenty minutes of focusing on her food and avoiding looking either or Keith or Romelle in the eye felt like an hour, especially after Shay took the pup back to his pen in hopes he might still find a human to take him home, and she couldn't just watch the cute fluffball waterdog shuffling around.

And then, before she knew what was happening, she and Keith were armed with buckets of cleaning equipment, and after a smug parting grin in her direction from Romelle, they were heading up to the top end of the kennels. 

The tiles of the first pen loomed around her when they reached it, and Katie found herself distinctly aware of the fact that she no longer had the buffer of peripheral conversation to hide behind. She was once again alone with Keith, and even the smell of damp dog and other questionable smells of the pen weren't enough to overpower the pleasant warm spice of his cologne in the enclosed room.

“Are you sure this is okay?” she asked him hopefully, wondering if she still had any way of getting out of this exact scenario, no matter how much anticipation fuelled the pounding in her chest. “You didn't really get much say in this.”

“It’s fine, better than sitting around,” Keith shrugged. “I’ll take the left, back and door? You take the right, back wall and window?” he suggested, squatting down to examine the various sprays and bottles of cleaner that Shay had provided them with. His jeans stretched a little, but she still had to force her eyes away from looking too closely at how close of a fit they were.

“Sure, then we can both work on the floor,” she agreed, hoping she sounded more put together than she felt thanks to Romelle’s meddling and her own unintentional distraction. Quickly turning her attention to the work laid out before them, she bent down to get some supplies of her own.

Leaning forward into the rolling cart of supplies they had been given, her studious attempts to avoid glancing at Keith were frequently interrupted with simple movement. The more she tried to avoid looking at him, the more conscious she was of his presence, and the more acute her awareness became, and the more she wanted to.

He’d left his coat and knit zip jumper in a locker for the time being, presumably expecting messy work, which had been a sensible move. As she raked through the bottles of cleaning fluid for something appropriate for tiles, it also meant she had fair chances to see and appreciate the subtle  shift of muscles in his back and shoulders.

Then she reminded herself that she wasn't here to ogle, or wonder how thick his eyelashes were when she accidentally caught a glimpse of them. Taking one of the sprays, she turned to her wall, coating it liberally in the atomised liquid, a clean, antibacterial scent filling her nose instead of the heady cologne. 

It wasn’t quite enough to break the focus her mind had on her companion. After a few moments of calm, she couldn't decide of the chill of the small room was what made her skin tingle, or the fleeting glances she cast over her shoulder, watching as Keith worked quietly and efficiently on his own side (and the pull of his jeans on his rear). She was incapable of not letting her eyes linger.

Half of her had expected him to balk at the very sight of all the sprays, but she was starting to feel like she had been too quick to judge in that regard. He didn't look like he was having any problems. She felt kind of bad for even thinking that way–she might not know very much about him, but Keith was obviously not an idiot. 

He ran a globally successful mega-company on a daily basis, and she knew from her internet stalking a few days back that he had also double qualifications from university. He was far from stupid, and it wasn’t hard to figure out how to clean something as basic as tiles and the floor.

It was just so contrasted to what she did know about Keith, that when she watched him scrubbing away with decent diligence at the grout between the wall tiles, suds from the cleaner frothing around the set of gloves he’d pulled on, it felt surreal.

Before he could catch her staring again, Katie whisked her thoughts back to the actual job Keith was innocuously distracting her from, and concentrated her efforts on sanitising the pen.

It was the first of several they worked on until later on in the evening, and after she had got a bit more accustomed to watching Keith do the strangely menial task of cleaning for over an hour, she finally got over the strangeness of the situation, and racked her brains for something to talk about.

Casting her mind back to the dinner, where they sat in the back of the car talking about  _ Monsters & Mana _ , of all things as they slowly edged closer and closer, cozy with mutual appreciation and a little bit of alcohol, she managed to come up with something once they had finished the floor and washed everything down with a hose into the drain.

‘ _ Shiny as Meklavar’s wedding armour _ ,’ she’d muttered, almost without thinking, forgetting that Keith was way behind her on seasons, and had no idea about the season seven Meklavar-Thunderstorm fiasco finally reaching its resolution (supposedly, the season eight teaser trailers looked ominous in her opinion).

Keith had stared at her, horror slowly dawning on his face as the full impact of the words reached him, and any awkwardness that had been present dissipated with the dismay that could only be caused by unwanted pop culture stream spoilers. 

‘ _ Meklavar’s getting married?! _ ’ he’d choked as the pulled the cart out of the room and moved along to the next one. Katie found herself then in the awkward position of trying to convince someone who wanted no spoilers whatsoever that the very large one she’d accidentally dropped was not, in fact, a spoiler.

It took the next pen, and the one after until she managed to make Keith apply it to several different fan theories and confuse himself over which one it might apply to, after she had debunked his first guess (which it had matched).

Then they both found themselves in natural conversation and discussion of their other interests. Keith mentioned just walking, specifically out on some of the national parks that were close to Fort Garritt, and some sports, including football and martial arts, alongside fantasy adventure stream dramas and a few other games and eBooks she had a matching interest in.

By the time they reached the last of the pens, where Shay had told her the puppies from the momentograph post would be when they got there, they had reached new topics, like Keith’s unusually open support for the Naxzellan independence campaign. 

Getting into politics might have been a risky conversation topic, but it was kind of unusual; most business owners tried to remain fairly neutral to keep from alienating potential customers through moral and ethical differences, or plain differences of opinion, but Keith didn't just support the movement, but did so openly, and even participated in it a little.

That said, when you owned the copyrights to technology used and integrated into new developments on a global basis, without which current technology simply wouldn't be functional, she supposed alienating a few customers would be less of a concern.

“…What about your shareholders and investors?” she asked, attaching the hose into a wall tap after they had finished wiping down the pen. “Has it ever caused problems with them?”

“Not the investors, quite a good majority of them are Naxzellan, and support it themselves,” Keith shrugged, twisting the head of the hose onto a firm spray setting and nodding to let her know she could turn on the water. “Tomita is a bit of an arsehole about it, but he’s an arsehole about everything, so that’s hardly a surprise.”

The name was immediately familiar, and Katie frowned as she turned on the tap, watching as it sloshed over the walls and floors. “Tomita is the CFO right? He kinda barged into my finance meeting the other day. He’s a shareholder?”

“Second largest,” Keith nodded. “He used to run the company.”

Well, that explained a fair deal. She could guess just from that admission that the guy hadn't been too happy to find out she had been hired either, and if he was the CFO, then he would be clued in on which employees applied for finance, which explained how he had been able to hijack her meeting. Still, that was kind of far to go just because of a few photos, but the initial reasoning may not be anything to do with her.

“He took issue with you taking over management?” she guessed. It was what she was inferring from the conversation at any rate, and it sounded like the kind of thing that might happen. Though considering Keith owned the company, that shouldn't have been too much of a surprise to anyone in her opinion. 

“Oh, it absolutely infuriates him,” Keith chuckled, aiming the water spray at the suds on the floor and aiming them towards the drain. 

“He’s an arse,” Katie muttered, watching as he moved the spray nozzle’s aim along to the higher part of the tiles. “I think he wanted me to combust just for looking at him.”

Keith winced. “Sorry, that’s kind of my fault,” he said rinsing down the last of the walls. “He kind of had a fit after those photos started going around, and when it was obvious he wasn't going to listen to any corrections, I just…gave up and let him think what he wanted.”

Katie processed that, trying to work out what he meant. It didn't take long for her to feel a bit of heat on her face at the implication. “By that you mean…”

“He thinks I hired you because we had sex,” Keith said bluntly. 

The words painted several pictures that were unfortunately not so hard to or utterly unpleasant to think about in more detail, and Katie found herself wondering just exactly what sex with Keith might entail. Memories of the warmth of his skin and the press of his lips on her cheek, the easy sensuality that had sprung between them gave credit to the images, and she was once again hyper aware of Keith and her own attraction to him.

She watched the slight flex in his arm as he turned off the hose at the tap, winding it around his arm in a wide loop for easy storage, the line of his waist and hips inside the skinny jeans and well-fitted, thin, t-shirt revealing the rest of the sharp contours of his shoulders. The twists and shift of movement bared a few glimpses of smooth, pale skin, and she couldn't help trying to picture the full bare stretch of it beneath his clothing, and wonder how it would feel against her own.

She knew glimpses; she remembered the skin of his knuckles on her back as he zipped up her dress, and the warmth of his arm on her shoulders when, on their way out, he’d tried to be a blocker between her and the mass of cameras that had showed up. Firm, but gentle, a feeling that had remained for the entire journey home; she had no doubt that had she asked him into her flat for the night, that feeling would have followed him inside, along with tastes and touch of pleasures that always ended with deep breaths, warm kisses, and the feeling of being encompassed by pleasure.

Tongue dry in her mouth, Katie bit her lip at the tangent her thoughts had taken with the blunt words, reminding herself that she needed to reply. She was zoning out again, and Keith was watching her curiously, watching her reaction.

“Oh,” she finally croaked out. “I… guess that would do it,” she mumbled, trying not to look at the lines and hollows of Keith’s throat as he scratched his neck. The scent of his cologne wafted out again and the scent threatened to realign her thought process yet again. 

Keith raised an eyebrow, finishing the rolling of the hose, and dropping it back into the trolley. “You’re not upset?” he asked, sounding a little surprised. He stood back up, pulling up the handle of the trolley, and she couldn't help noticing the difference in height.

“It ticks me off, but it's only what about half the city thinks already,” she shrugged. Though she did wonder how likely this was to make her meeting for her revamp of Lotor’s failed datapads more complicated. She suspected the chances were high. “I know what’s going on in my personal life, and it's nobody else's business anyway, so what does it matter?”

Keith hummed, pulling up the collapsed handle of the trolley. “That's an interesting perspective,” he noted; there was a tone in his voice that made her snap towards him, softer, the sort that sent shivers down her back and pulled at her attention as they headed towards the door.  “You really aren't bothered by it all?”

“I mean, the stream reporters were kind of horrible,” she admitted. She didn't know how anyone could consider that normal. The fact that Keith could brush them off so easily, and had somehow fostered them into a daily part of his life, was sort of sad to her. Regardless of who he was, that kind of thing shouldn’t have been normal for anyone. “But I don't pay attention to social media anyway–the only people who I want to talk to already have a link to my interface, so I don't need it–so the rumours? No, I really don’t care,” she shrugged.

They had stopped in the small square of an entryway by the door to the pen, and Keith started a little, a curl of amusement growing at the corner of his lips. Her nose was full of cologne as he leaned against the handle of the trolley, leaning a little closer. “So, does that mean I’m one of those people?” he asked, voice low, sinking down into the thud of her heartbeat.

She tried to find words, a flush blooming on her cheeks yet again as she realised what she had walked herself into, and finding herself temporarily stuck for words. The air around her was warm as she looked up, her eyes focusing on the cocky smirk that had grown from his amused smile, stretched plump across his lips, and the deep colour of his eyes as he watched her.

It put a shiver down her chest, straight down her throat, as she finally cleared it, dampening her lips as though that might help her speak. “I gave it to you didn't I?” she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray the thrill of her pulse and the encroach of anticipated, excited nerves. “Why?” she asked, reaching out for the handle of the door.

She was started again by the slightly rougher, warm press of his hand on her own as Keith also reached out for the door handle. His arm reached behind her back as he grasped hold of it, close against her back, warmth radiating from him, ever pleasant scent fresh under her skin.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, stepping a little back, though not completely away from her immediate space. 

Slowly pulling her hand away, the sensation of his skin tingling where she slid her fingers away, she waited, watching as his wrist pushed the handle down. His hands weren’t too rough, but they were at least half again the size of her own. 

Before opening the door, he paused, lingering in the relative privacy of the empty pen, the enclosed entry snug, making her acutely aware of the physical presence beside her. If he reached out with a hand, his arm would slot so easily around her shoulders, like it had before, and her back tingled at the memory.

Keith was close enough now that she had to look up at him, and she did, so, drawn in by the close space between them. His tongue darted out for a moment, dampening his lips before he spoke, and she focused on the shape of them yet again. “I was hoping I could ask you something in regards to all that actually,” he said. 

Breath took a moment for her to find as she met his gaze. “Ask away,” she said, noting the bend in his shoulder, where he leaned slightly against the door so he could be on a better eye level with her. Founders, his eyes really were gorgeous when they were up close. The colour, while maybe common in Fort Garritt, was so unusual in Olkaria she could help but notice it.

“I have a few more events like that dinner coming up,” he said. “I was wondering if I could ask for your help again, with advanced warning this time.” He added, quirking his smile a little.

“When?” she asked, almost too quickly. She was abandoning logical thought for whatever insanity she was daring to let herself entertain.

“Next week” Keith said, shifting and leaning on the handle of the trolley again instead, the fading cologne scent giving her a little more breathing room. “There’s a fundraiser on Tuesday night,” he said. “I’d definitely appreciate the company.”

Katie tried to come up with something, but despite the fact that Keith had clearly asked the question with the same implied vein as her previous foray into the world of upscale rich people and celebrities, she didn’t get that feeling from the question at all. 

“Won’t your CFO get pissed off if I do that?” she asked, taken aback by the question.

In answer to her own, Keith’s smile turned into a smirk again, and his eyes darkened, pleasantly. Very pleasantly as he shifted back towards her. “Oh, I can absolutely guarantee he will,” he said, with an assurance that made her stand a little straighter. 

That should not have been as encouraging as it sounded to her, but only biting on her lip kept her from agreeing right there and then. 

“Don't worry, it wouldn't be until after your presentation,” he added, presumably taking her expression for concern about her job. “I think the board meeting will be Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning.”

Board meetings and her job, however important, were the least of her concerns right now. She was more focused on the question Keith had just asked her, and trying to work out just what exactly she was being asked.  

She didn't know if she was picking up on things correctly, and she desperately needed to know that first; from the low, but obvious undertones, all the warning in the back of her mind that told her (incorrectly) that Keith was asking her out.

Her first instinct was to say yes and throw caution to the wind, but her brother’s warnings were still there, and she had to be realistic at some point. She needed time to think, and not get swept up in the tension, and agree to something she might end up changing her mind about, or be looking at in the wrong way.

So, closing her eyes, she took a breath, and pulled herself away from the allure, reaching for the abandoned door handle. “Can I think about it?” she asked carefully. “I know I said I don't care about their opinions, and I don’t, but those stream reporters were kind of terrifying before…” she added quickly, wanting something reasonable as an excuse for not being capable of simple decision making thought.

Keith nodded, his expression warming and relaxing almost instantly. “That’s fine,” he nodded, stepping back so she could open and hold the door for the cart. “Just let me know Monday night latest,” he added. “Where next?”

Checking the list of pen numbers Shay had sent her (and logging her time limit away for worrying over later), Katie pointed to the last one, just across the hallway. 

Closing the door behind them, Keith pulled the trolley of cleaning supplies the short distance across the hall, and they moved onto their last task of the day.

* * *

Shay had told them that they could hang around in the pens to meet the dogs until she came down top meet them, and once they were done, Katie couldn't help taking a second to look into the closed off area where the occupants of the pen waited for their temporary home to be cleaned.

The puppies were cute, and the little guy with blue markings perked up as they both peered through the hatch glass. Katie couldn't tell if they were all still there, or if any had been adopted, but they seemed content pulling on each other’s ears and tails in play. 

Except for the violet-furred pup, who started biting blue’s ear a bit to harshly. A sharp rap on the glass as Keith tapped his knuckles against it interrupted before it could get rough though. “Hey, be nice,” he frowned, mumbling to himself, starting the violet-furred pup enough that they dropped their sibling’s ear.

Blue twitched and scratched the ear his sibling had been pulling with a back leg, falling over his own tail in the process with a tiny whine. He looked around in utter confusion, a feeling Katie could commiserate with all too well today,  then tottled up to the door, sitting on his haunches and looking up curiously.

As Keith caught his attention with silly hand gestures, Katie let her mind drift off, wondering just where exactly she was going to dig this hole she’d started against Matt’s advice. 

Thankfully it didn't take long for Shay to join them, with fresh bowls, more bags of food and a water feeder all in hand, preventing her from dwelling too long on her newest dilemma.

“Thank you so much!” her friend said, putting down her bags and a few large, clean bowls. “The pens look great! Romelle and the others should be done soon. I think they just started their last ones. Give me a second to get set up then you can say hello to them all.”

She and Keith both helped out getting the food bowls filled, and another larger one with fresh water, and finally, fresh clean bedding in a bed by one wall, before she unlocked the hatch and let the pups back into their pen..

As soon as it was open, the whole litter rushed in, clamouring around their legs for attention, darting around the enclosure excitedly, clamouring barks echoing around the small room as they rushed and sniffed the food, the clean floors and their inevitable new scent.

Laughing a little, she sat down on the still damp floor, letting a few climb into her lap and sniff her shoes and open hands, leaving ear scratches in exchange for the abundant jaw-kisses the puppies assaulted her with.

“You seem popular,” Keith noted, looking amused as she was attacked by roughly four or five dogs the size of small cats.

He was sitting on the step down from the main entry, hand held out to blue, who was sniffing it cautiously and fully inspecting the new scent. He eyed Keith’s hand for a moment, before licking at his fingers curiously, with a tiny gnaw on his thumb.

“I could die happy right now,” she chuckled, ruffling the mane of one of the pups in front of her, with reddish fur and orangish stripes, and yellow markings around his eyes. “You've made a friend too. He must recognise you from lunch,” she guessed.

“Maybe,” Keith mused, his attention back on the puppy; the small dog had moved from investigative sniffs, to batting his head into Keith's fingers, then backing away and whining whenever he tried to scratch his ears. “I'm not sure he’s so keen.”

“Actually you're the first person he’s warmed up to all day,” Shay said, handing them both a pair of dog brushes. “He might be more friendly if you give him a brush. He loves getting his fur brushed,” she said encouragingly.

Keith eyed the brush and the puppy curiously, looking unconvinced until the puppy started watching the brush, and sat up in interest. Then he padded forward and started nudging the brush with his hand, barking for attention, and almost angling his head under the bristles before Keith could get a chance to move the brush with any real direction.

Struggling with one of the puppies that was much, much less enthused with having her fur brushed (the one with the pink markings and white and grey fur), Katie watched as the Keith got absorbed in the task.

He pulled the brush through the puppy’s thick fur, slowly bringing in some ear scratches as the dog became more and more comfortable; after about half an hour, there were more belly rubs and scratches involved than the real task.

By the time Hunk, Nadia, and Romelle joined to help with the terrible job of entertaining a bunch of puppies, they had moved on from fur brushing to pull toys and several frustrated attempts (on Keith’s part) at fetch.

There wasn't much time left after that. There were still other sections to work in, including the cattery, and some of the bird cages. Romelle and Hunk had been sent off to help out with the reptiles and yalmors. 

Katie had been glad that she and Keith had been left to themselves earlier, after the turn in conversation, but she was more than grateful when Nadia stuck with them later in the afternoon. 

The extra person helped them get through things faster (which was a bonus as far as the bird cages went), and also meant she couldn't take any detours as far as Keith was concerned.

Finally, at the end of the day, Katie found herself back in the locker rooms getting her bag and coat with Nadia and Romelle, tired from the long day, but content with the effort and their own minor contributions.

“Did anyone hear about the water dog puppies?” she asked, sorting out her coat and scarf in one of the mirrors above the skinks after relaiming all her belongings. “Were there any adoptions?”

She knew that Shay in particular had been anxious for them to find homes, having spent so long looking after them and nursing them from being days old, it was understandable that she wanted to see them get good homes.

Katie had not seen Shay for a while to ask. She and the other employees, interns, and volunteers who’d had more responsibility than simple gopher jobs, were completely snared in leftover paperwork and lingering clean up. Not to mention all the regular work.

“I think they had a few, but not as many as she hoped,” one of the girls who had been working on the drinks stand said. “I think she was down by reception earlier if you're looking for her.”

Katie nodded, and after a quick check of her hair, pulled on her rucksack and headed out of the locker rooms towards the entrance to wait for Romelle and Nadia. They had agreed to meet her there, but had been assigned to lockers in a different part of the building.

Looking around, she caught sight of Shay standing near the reception with a familiar face deep in conversation with his earpiece.

Keith’s hair was tucked back up under his beanie, and the collar of the thick, warm black coat had been pulled up again too. A few people were peering in his direction, but for the most part he was going unnoticed. 

As he spoke, looking around in that way people tried to keep their eyes occupied while they were mid-call, his eyes landed on her as Shay tapped away at an interface screen.

“Katie!” Romelle’s voice called from the doorway. Taking a breath to calm the slightly higher beat of her pulse, Katie calmly gave him a small wave, then, turned around towards Romelle, who stood by the main entrance with Nadia, and headed towards her two friends, and the culmination of a long, eventful day.

* * *

Long is a terrible, terrible understatement for this whole shenanigans. This chapter took _way_ too long to wrangle. It was a traumatic experience for everyone involved that I’m not comfortable discussing. 

My wonderful Beta **KDXArt** pointed out that it had been 17 chapters and we’d only had one almost-kiss, and wondered if I’d remembered the slow-burn tag. I’ve fixed that problem. The tags. not the kissing. I’m so sorry, I tried, but Katie was stubborn and sensible and just refused to do as commanded. But you get puppies? Yay, Puppies!

At least the kids are making progress, sort of. 

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

* * *

 

**Keith’s Clothing** : [ Jacket](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/balmain/slim-fit-double-breasted-cashmere-coat/1142644) , [ Cardigan](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/brunello_cucinelli/cable-knit-cashmere-zip-up-cardigan/1091146) , [ T-Shirt](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/brioni/slim-fit-embroidered-cotton-jersey-polo-shirt/1095357) , [ Jeans](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/amiri/mx1-skinny-fit-appliqued-faux-snake-panelled-distressed-stretch-denim-jeans/1143862) , [ Trainers](https://www.mrporter.com/en-gb/mens/product/off_white/off-court-nubuck-and-canvas-high-top-sneakers/1133007?ppv=2) .


	18. It was Sunday 18th

When the door to his apartment closed behind him, Keith took a moment to stare at the puppy in his arms. When he had agreed to join Hunk on his mystery tour earlier this morning, he didn’t know what he had expected, but acquiring a dog had _definitely_ not been it.

The dog looked up at him, shuffling in his arms and sniffing at the air, then Keith, then the new scents of the apartment again, before letting out an excited bark and scrabbling for freedom to explore again.

He had point blank refused to go into the carrier the staff had tried to put him in at the rescue centre, and so Keith had been holding him through the whole journey home, after Iverson made a brief stop for supplies.

Putting down the puppy in the kitchen, Keith quickly started arranging that area, moving the contents of a lower kitchen cupboard to another, making space for all the dog food, shampoo, pest sprays and treats Hunk had helped him pick a selection of.

Then, he went into the spare room for a plastic storage box for the small, but still well selected toys, including one of the ropes from the shelter that the puppy had refused to leave behind no matter how hard Katie’s friend had tried to pry it from his jaw.

Memory of the intern inevitably brought his mind back to his own employee as he started reading the back of the box for the puppy training tray, and he tried not to think about the last glimpse of her at the centre, while he’d been arranging the donation fee for the adoption process.

A brief glance at social media showed that for the most part, that kind of gossip was fairly below the line of being standout, at least, it was on his interface. His had business notifications as priority though, and he had no doubt that others would be programmed very differently (the concern was exemplified by a message from Lance asking ‘ _Why are you and Pidge trending again?_ ’).

Still, what he did see didn’t look too outrageous, so while he’d keep an eye on it, Keith wasn’t so concerned about that in comparison to the actual interaction the cameras had completely missed. Setting up the tray in the downstairs bathroom, he headed back into the central living area to try and find a spot for the dog bed. 

He ended up plopping it in front of the tv, too tired from the ups and downs and tangents of the day to care where it went. Illun would probably know where to better put it anyway. The final step was setting up a feeding area, just before the corner into the entranceway, at the end of the kitchen counter bar.

As the puppy toddled over on his stumpy legs, catching the smell of food and wagging his tail enthusiastically, Keith’s thoughts wandered again, back to the enclosed pen at the centre, and the conversation that had emerged from the close quarters and pleasant company.

He hadn’t really thought about what he’d asked Katie until it had been out there, but after thinking about it some more, he couldn’t help but hope she’d agree. He really, really hoped, she would. And that was objectively more of a worry than anyone’s random photo of them both at the open day itself.

Katie wasn’t Acxa, or even just a random girl form a bar anymore. She worked for him. Essentially, and regardless of the capacity in how she performed that function, mixing his work life and the obvious interest he had in her, he understood was a terrible idea. He’d been deliberately avoiding it, actually.

He liked to think he was only considering it because it would piss off Tomita so absolutely perfectly that he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else, and a distracted Tomita was infinitely easier to deal with (in some aspects). 

Keith was certain that he was lying to himself, and today had only been more proof of where his interest in her was starting to turn; amid their enclosed, private words and his invitations in the pens, what he had really wanted to do was crush her lips to his, pin her to the wall and follow up on all the warm encouragement she’d been responding with, regardless of any cameras that might have been present for canine safety purposes.

He kept thinking about the investors’ dinner, the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers as he had zipped her dress, and the hesitant moment before he'd left her on the doorstep of her apartment, crushing the invitation to his own with a fleeting peck on her cheek instead.

It was exactly the opposite of what Acxa had offered in advice, and there was absolutely no way he could try and claim he wasn’t just interested in Katie for her programming and tech skills, which had been the cause of said interest initially.

Not to mention the fact that Tomita had some kind of issue with her—most likely the idea of what she represented in the media—and the idea of deliberately goading the man and satisfying his own curiosity at the same time wasn't really a bad thing.

There was nothing immoral or in depth to it. That said, was there even an ‘ _it_ ’ at all? Neither of them had brought the intangible subject up, and until someone did, there wasn't really anything to worry about. He was worrying himself into circles he didn't need to.

It was just an invitation as a plus-one to the fundraising function next week. He didn't need to think about it this deeply.

He was jerked from his thoughts when the puppy head butted his hand and whined impatiently. Keith blinked, then looked at the box of food in his hand, which had stopped halfway through filling the bowl with dog biscuit.

“Sorry, sorry!” He apologised, quickly filling the bowl. 

Putting the box down, Keith watched as the puppy took a few tentative mouthfuls before attacking the food with vigorous enthusiasm, then buried his face in his hands.

Again, how exactly had he ended up with a dog? Not that he was planning on returning the puppy or anything.  It would probably be nice to have a pet, it just felt like he’d missed the large part of the process involved in making that decision.

Maybe it had been a whim, or there had been something appealing about the idea that he’d brushed aside at the time because he’s been too distracted with Katie. He did know that during the signing of his digital id on the adoption agreement, Katie’s friend had explained the condition the pups’ mother  had been found in, and he had felt horrified by the tale of animal abuse.

The pup, focused on his food, looked completely unconcerned. Speaking of, he needed to think of a name for him, didn’t he? The pup still needed chipping, which couldn’t be done until he had a name. Keith was pretty sure he couldn’t put ‘hey you’ or ‘oi’ or just simply ‘dog’ on the digital records.

He had to think, hoping inspiration would strike, but the only name he could think of was Stellio, and naming his dog after a fictional flicker hound from a drama stream sounded like something he would regret when the pupp got off the lead on a walk and Keith had to run around yelling for him at the top of his lungs.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

So, as much as he liked the idea of choosing a name from one of his favourite streams, Keith decided against the name Stellio.  

Putting the decision aside for the moment, he left the pup to it, and opened up his interface to get ahead on some emails and reports that had been sent in for approval. Going into the bar for an open bottle, he pulled some ice from a built-in dispenser into a glass, and poured out a decent amount to sip at while he worked.

As he checked through all the screens, he tapped out his replies to the emails, and did some research for some meetings coming up with Baku Corp’s CEO for Uisgemul. 

The puppy darted back and forth with some of the toys they had picked up, and Keith continued a few other preparations for the Kral Zera awards, and the GalTech open day. Both were still a long way away, but for the awards especially there was a lot to plan. The prize in his mother’s name wasn’t going to be awarded this year, he already knew–it was too new and the selection process had already been conducted–but the organisers still wanted him to attend, observe and keep refining any requirements for qualification before the finalise everything in time for the year after.

Then the GalTech Sincline Open Day was another big event a few months down the line that he kind of had to make a showing at, given as he was the sponsor for the main scholarship programme. That wasn’t so bad; Kolivan had advised him to make sure to keep an eye out for fresh talent there during his internship, and he had taken the advice. So far a few of the scientists working in the lab now had been found through the programme, so especially with the new developments for Uisgemul, it would be good to go.

Then there was a bunch of minor events; some not so bad, others more painful. Much more casual non-work related events. Most of those Lance had declined for him already, but he had sent on a few for him to look at. The ones that might be enjoyable, or at the very least make for good publicity.

He was picky with those, unwilling to make a decision on some until he heard back from Katie. Then, he finally got back to the important things, like getting the next board meeting scheduled for Monday morning. The sooner the better, in his opinion. Nevermind Katie’s presentation - hadn’t Lance mentioned the other day that Tomita was going on about more changes to the employee benefit programmes? He thought the discussions on that had finished months ago. He still didn’t see a data-dump from him on the subject, so as far as Keith was concerned, there would be nothing to discuss.

The sooner he got a meeting set, the less time Tomita would have to come up with something. Setting up an email for a Monday meeting to be sent tomorrow, he turned his attention away from board meetings, and back to a few other projects. He still had the other labs to check up on too. Not to mention Lab F, though Lance had done a good job in keeping track of developments there. It was unfortunately one of the places he didn’t get to look in on as much as he wanted to, since it wasn’t fully company controlled, and therefore slightly lower on his priority list.

His parents probably would have managed, or at least he’s always assumed so as a kid, but parents had a veil of perfection to any child. They probably had just as much trouble keeping everything going, but there had been two of them back then. He was just one person, and while Keith felt he did a decent enough job, there was only so much one person could ever do. 

Thoughts of his parents took the place of his attempts at distraction, and it was dark when, drink gone, half-finished emails and research plans and message screens and a few news streams beaming with uncomfortable brightness from his holoscreen, Keith started from dreams of distant memories when something landed on his chest.

Dropping the glass from his hand, which had been slung over the edge of the sofa as he presumably nodded off, he took a few moments to realise that he was being watched by gold eyes embedded in vibrant blue fur.

“Oh it's you,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What is it? Hungry?” Keith lifted his head up from the cushions over the back of the sofa to check the food bowl, but it still looked reasonably full, so obviously the dispenser was working.

The puppy yawned, stretching his jaw before flattening down and sprawling all over Keith's lap, a squeak fading as he settled. Realising he was to be used as a bed, Keith sighed, then got to his feet, plopping the puppy down in his own bed.

“This is yours, okay?” He said, giving him some scratches, encouraging him to lie down. The demand for belly rubs was encouraging, and when Keith stepped back, the puppy remained.

He really needed to think of a name for him soon, preferably before he picked up his uncle from the airport tomorrow night, but that would be tomorrow’s problem, and so Keith made his way up the stairs, dumped his clothes in the washing basket, and decided to take the hint at an early night.

Just as he was drifting off, something landed on his feet, accompanied by a low bark. Started again, he leaned up on one elbow and stared at the puppy, who now sat on the bed beside his feet. He whined, then laid down with wide, hopeful eyes that tugged at Keith’s heart.

Keith ought to take him back downstairs. Basic common sense told him that letting the puppy sleep on his bed would not be productive in terms of training him properly. However, he was also tired, and a little bit hazy from the whiskey earlier, and couldn’t be bothered getting out of bed.

“Okay, you can stay here tonight,” He said. “But tomorrow you have to use your own bed.” 

The puppy barked, and Keith flopped back down, drifting off as the pup made himself a warm comfortable ball next to him.

* * *

 

**Keith Hawkins (@K-Hawkins) · ‎Momentograph**

https://momentograph.mrt/KeithHawkins

[ _Image of a dark haired man in black coat, cream zip-up knit cardigan, red polo neck t-shirt, black skinny distressed jeans, and high tops alongside a dark-skinned man with hair in a bandana, and a man in an orange charity t-shirt with greenish dyed hair_ ]

Learned something new today about turtles from **@HaranMichaelOfficial** at the _#FG Central #MRSPCA #Open Day._ I think my parents would have been happy to hear the project was becoming such a huge success. Hope it continues with the extra space. _#Conservation_ Many thanks to **@HunkGaluvao** for dragging me out today, else I’d have missed out on this. _#The street toast and dogs alone are worth it #and I never turn down free drinks #Fort Garritt #MRSPCA #Open Day #All Ages #Family Friendly #Fun #cute animals #free food_

Saturday 17th Oct 2037 –13:47pm

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**1 day ago   | 11.8K Likes   | 5.7K Comments**

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[ _Image inset of a blue puppy staring up from a tiled floor, in front of an automatic feeder and pet water dispenser_ ]

Went to a charity open day, and now I have a dog. He hasn’t told me his name yet, but he liked the car ride, and hasn’t hid under the furniture yet, so I think he’s settling in. _#Waterdog #Dogs #Doggograph  #MRSPCA_  

Saturday 17th Oct 2037 –18:23pm

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**1 day ago   | 226.9K Likes   | 107.4K Comments**

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[ _Image inset a puppy looking up from his curled spot on a large, superking bed_ ]

I think I made a mistake letting him sleep upstairs. He looks comfortable _#Waterdog #Doggograph  #Dogs_

Sunday 18th Oct 2037 –08:01am

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**12 hours ago   | 226.9K Likes   | 107.4K Comments**

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[ _Image inset of a blue puppy on a lead sitting in front of a marble pillar with angular inscriptions, beside a vase of aster, anemone, white juniberries, camellia, fringed orchid, yalmor lilies, and purple meerakeet lilies, sniffing curiously. Patches of drool are on the plinth base, and a few incense candles are waiting to be lit_ ]

First walk today. Still hasn’t told me his name, but he seems content so far. Off to meet Uncle Kolivan soon _#he’s had his injections don’t worry #if anyone has drooly dogs #send help #what’s the average number of handkerchiefs I’m going to need #Waterdog #Dogs #Doggograph #MRSPCA_

Sunday 18th 2037 – 15:28pm

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**20 minutes ago   | +226.9K Likes |   +107.4K Comments**

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 **Ian_Blandman23:** Is that one of the puppies from the promo post? I thought that was just stock footage from somewhere?   
_2hrs58mins_ | _94 likes_   | _Replies (77)_

 **Joyce–Kia <3:** you definitely made a mistake XD there is no chance of you having your own bed ever again. That is the puppy’s bed now.   
_2hrs12mins_ | _112 likes_   | _Replies (163)_

 **SaraSanchez6:** Why are you at a graveyard?   
_1hr39mins_ | _56 likes_   | _Replies (201)_

 **Brian_Mearch:** What a cute little guy <3 Kudos to you for giving him a home!   
_1hr15mins_ | 3.5K _likes_   | _Replies (109)_

 **BarringtonBoy99:** Okay but, are you actually going to look after this guy, or are you going to hand it off to some dog walker? Waterdogs need a lot of care! They’re active dogs, and need a lot of attention. Swimming, long walks, a lot of food, and fur maintenance. If you’re just going to cheap out and pay someone to do it, take it back to the rescue centre.   
_57mins_ |   _687 likes_   | _Replies (91)_

 **Theo–B:** cute dog. _#XanthuriaGirl_ is cuter tho ;)   
_49mins_ |   _1K likes_   | _Replies (183)_

 **HawkFan–667:** Probably about twenty-fifty. Or a good investment is an absorbent collar. My girls have ones that look like bandanas, and they don’t have to be changed for about eight hours!   
_46mins_ |   _251 likes_   | _Replies (73)_

 **Kassie–Komal_00:** For anyone wondering the flowers are traditional Naxzellan ones for grave visits, and the meanings are as follows: ASTER - remembrance/longing. ANEMONE - sincerity. WHITE JUNIBERRY - silence/devotion/goodbye. FRINGED ORCHID - dreams/transience. YALMOR LILY - wealth. PURPLE MEERAKEET LILY - Never to meet again ☹︎   
_35mins_ |   _1K likes_   | _Replies (117)_

 **Hawkfactor07:** whts goin on w/that grl frm the club? Saw pictures again pls dont strt going out w/her u nd acxa r best   
_35mins_ |   _1K likes_   | _Replies (209)_

 **Redd188:** ‘he hasn’t told me his name yet’ *dies*   
_29mins_ |   _2.5K likes_   | _Replies (64)_

 **Kiki-00:** what does the grave pillar say I can’t read galran   
_6mins_ |   _75 likes_   | _Replies (17)_

+10.6K Comments

* * *

[ _https://www.celebstream.mrt_ ](https://www.celebstream.mrt/)

**CELEB STREAM**

Top streams on your favourite celebrities everyday!

* * *

 

 **Keith Hawkins’ Lunch Date with #XanthuriaGirl** **  
** Sunday 18th Oct 2037                By Branko Amadi

Keith Hawkins was spotted alongside his mystery one-night-stand and one-time-date to Sal’s again yesterday at an MRSPCA open day at the Central district centre.

Hawkins was first spotted at the event at an environmental talk by Haran Michael, at the end of which he donated six acres of land in Bluve towards ocean and turtle conservation efforts.

It helps to answer the question of why Keith Hawkins showed up to an animal charity open day; while he has been known to be generous to charitable causes, animals are a first.

He was later spotted by other patrons making Donations to on-site staff, with _#XanthuriaGirl_ , who judging by the neon blue vest and orange charity t-shirt, was volunteering at the event.

[ _Video inset showing Keith Hawkins speaking to a young woman with shoulder-length light brown hair and a charity t-shirt in a public courtyard_ ]

The pair were seen speaking together for some alone time, along with _#XanthuriaGirl’_ s co-worker, after new volunteers arrived to take over. Another visitor later spotted them, near the street food stalls.

[ _Image inset_ of _the same couple walking through a busy food court_ ]

It’s no stretch to guess that Keith’s interest in the festivities hails from his mystery date, who accompanied him to a Hawkinovate investors’ dinner last Thursday night.

Questions remain as to her identity. While known to be an employee of Club Xanthuria in first pictures that swamped social media, Keith has since claimed that she is an employee of Hawkinovate Inc. Neither have revealed her name, and Xanthuria also refused to speak with reporters.

If these images are anything to go by, Acxa might have some competition.

[ _Image inset of Keith Hawkins offering his unknown partner some of his side pickles and a bottle of water_ ]

[ _Image of pair heading inside the kennels; Keith Hawkins holds the door looking towards the camera as his unknown partner heads inside_ ]

The pair were seen close, ‘ _casual_ ’, and personal before disappearing inside the facility kennel building.

Acxa Luttrell, Keith’s regular companion and oft-guessed girlfriend, has been recovering from an emergency hysterectomy since last week, and so was unavailable for comment on the pictures. 

 Keep tuned into our livestreams to stay updated on all Keith Hawkins, Acxa Luttrell, and other _#XanthuriaGirl_ gossip!

* * *

 

 **From:**       KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG-East.mrt   
**To:**          SamHolt@UaineHouse.Marchanda-LíomaDist.OKA  
**Subject:**  Check in!  
**Sent:**       16.10.2037 (17:43pm)

* * *

 

Hi Dad!

Just thought I’d send you some photos from the open day yesterday! It was great! Nadia, one of my workmates joined in, and Romelle and I bumped into Keith and Hunk later on, so they stuck around to help too.

Still no word on when I’m going to get my interface hooked up–I’m still waiting to hear back from PDE services. 

If you get the time at work can you send me a datadump with some of the programs you showed me for working out evolving code matrixes? I need something a bit stronger to use on my home network before I can get into some stronger software at work -  don’t worry, I’ll make sure it stays on my private work interface and my external storage.

I’ve already been using the old ones I used in GalTech, but if you have anything more updated they would be a huge help! I have a bunch of them to get into for a project, and it’s kinda dependent on them being solved sharpish.

Do you know if Matt landed in Drazan okay? 

Say hi to mum and BaeBae for me!

Love Katie.

X

[  _97 Files Attached_   ]

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 **Sender:** LanceSerrano@Vermillion.HWI.org   
**CC:** KeithHawkins@Vermillion.HWI.org, KolivanRolston@Vermillion.HWI.org, HunkGaluvao@Samasama.HWI.org,  
                       UlazVosloo@Samasama.HWI.org, AntokDuvall@VermillionHR.HWI.org,      
                       LadnokLowes@VermillionMarketing.HWI.org, ZarkonTomita@VermillionFinance.HWI.org,  
                       BoghTorseth@VermillionLegal.HWI.org, RanveigSampson@VermillionIT-Security.HWI.org,  
                       MacidusGal@VermillionProduction.HWI.org  
**Replying To:** KatieHolt@Samasama.HWI.org   
**Subject:**            Presentation Appointment  
**Sent:**                 18.10.2037

* * *

 

**Hawkinovate Inc**

Miss Katie Holt,

You recently submitted an appointment request to senior management, which I can now confirm has been fully processed.

 **Request Outline** **  
** _Use of NanoTech / Olkarian Seismology Development._

 **Approval Granted** **  
** [  _ID Confirmed_   ]   
Keith Hawkins

I can happily confirm that your request has been approved, and your appointment has been arranged for the following date and time:

09:40am  
19.10.2037

Your meeting will take place in the shareholder’s room at the Vermillion Building. Access will be automatically applied to your company ID if required one hour prior to the assigned meeting time. Please ensure you login at the front desk before this access grant expires.

Please confirm that you wish to proceed with your meeting. If you do not confirm within 24 hours of this message, it will be assumed that you no longer wish to attend, and your appointment will be cancelled. By confirming the appointment, you are obligated to attend, and failure to do so may affect your ability to make similar appointments in the future.

 **Employee ID Required** **  
** [  _ID Confirmed_   ]   
Katie Holt

Thank you for your patience and cooperation. Your appointment has been confirmed for the above time. If you have any further questions, please send them as follow up to this message.

Sincerely,

_Lance Serrano._

**Office of Keith Hawkins, CEO.**

* * *

 

The rest of the weekend progressed smoothly for Katie.

Sunday was a good day. After all the hectic activity and emotional short circuits she’d had on Saturday, being able to lie in and relish the undisturbed comfort and warmth of her bed was a rare treat. Even the light tinge of damp in the ceiling didn’t bother her too much.

Being able to do normal things like do a bit of shopping and get some food without worry about which bill she’d have to forgo that month was a novelty, and it was incredibly uplifting. She caught up on a couple of tech streams, rewatched some drama streams, and even managed to remember the dry cleaning that she had to pick up for her newer work clothes.

Between her prep for her meeting, and attempts to examine the code matrixes for work on her dodgy home network, she even remembered to contact her parents, and that was sort of how she ended up ruminating over the one man she had been trying to avoid thinking about with all her productivity.

When she was picking out the photos Romelle, Shay, and Nadia had sent her from the day, she ended up looking up a few more on social media. That turned out to be more of an event in and of itself than she had expected. Mostly with the sheer audacity and blatantly twisted way her interaction with Keith was being shown.

It was true that some of the photos were… probably more incriminating than she would have liked, but some were deliberately cut to edit out Romelle and the others–she could see the corner of her friend’s jacket in one, which was what clued her in to the obvious edits.

More worrying, was the amount of comments on the first article she had found. Keith had asked her if she’d help out on Tuesday night for something, but while her initial request to think about it had partially been her brain’s attempt to step back and reevaluate her increasing need to place herself in compromisingly close quarters with her CEO, she really ought to think about her given excuse more closely.

Checking her own accounts again, she noticed that the number of private messages, and friend requests had increased again, and a quick dive into the _#XanthuriaGirl_ tag that was currently highlighted on her feeds was enough to tell her that people were, for some reason, extremely interested in her strange, new, nameless internet persona.

That was a little bit unnerving, and Katie had no idea what to make of it. Thankfully, she seemed to be retaining her own anonymity; all of her interface was registered as private to social contacts, so without the link, she seemed safe enough. Some people may have found it, and tried to jump in and demand information, but the number wasn’t so high that any media had taken notice of it yet.

All she had to do was block the strangers, or delete the requests again, and that was the end of it, but it was less the solution and more the problem itself that gave her doubts; all this was just from a couple of photos and one dinner (that was now, in her memory, was suspiciously reminiscent of a date). Would it get worse if she agreed to Keith’s request?

She didn’t doubt it, and had to weigh that worry against her firm and full desire to agree to the invitation. Surely as long as nothing else happened, things would be fine?

Flopped on her pillows, scrolling through momentograph posts of herself and Keith standing in the centre square during his donation processing, she snorted at the idea of this strange situation having any kind of calm. 

One of the pictures in the mass of recirculated images caught her eye, and she tapped into the main page. Keith’s. It was a photo with Hunk and some other official type people. The land donation Hunk had talked about yesterday. 

The image, the captured pixels smoothed into a perfect impression of the man from yesterday, brought back the spice of pleasant scent only possible from the close quarters that surrounded her dilemma. It reinforced the shape of his lips, reminded her about the warmth of his skin from the brushing accidental touches she had a feeling were anything but.

As she had found herself yearning to go back to the steps of her building, and reach out a hand and inviting words, Katie wished she had found something that would give her indecision a little more substance. That she’d stretched up and found out how soft those lips were against her own, found out how much impulse could be contained in the enclosed privacy of the pens.

Thinking about it didn’t really help her pursue any kind of rational thinking on the matter. She hadn’t even got to the part where mixing her work and personal life was a less than stellar idea. She didn’t really want to think about it too much; if she agreed she’d doubt herself for making a logically bad decision, but if she turned him down, she’d regret it as much as she did some of her choices at GalTech. Or at least, it would feel that way.

Either way, she couldn’t win. Her best option was just to wait and see what would happen tomorrow. She’d know then. Her appointment for her presentation had been finalised, and she was confident enough. Hunk had given her some pointers on just how much to prepare, and told her a bit about the shareholders.

She just had to get through the meeting now. Scrolling through more pictures, she tried not to think about that either. If she wanted to be prepared, she needed to be well rested. Being unsettled would be just as bad as going in without knowing how best to present her work.

The pictures went on, and the newer ones made her pause for a moment, remembering what Hunk had said about Keith’s parents as she stopped on the picture taken at a cemetery. Then her eyes fell on a picture of a puppy, and she had to blink a few times before she realised it was the one from the litter, that had taken to Keith. The one who had been in the staff room during lunch with Shay.

Chuckling to herself she bit her lip, then brought out her contacts list on her interface. Flicking down a little to the name just above her parents, she decided to bite the bullet, and began to type.

* * *

 

**Keith Hawkins**

There are no previous messages.  
\--- 18th October 21:37pm ---

 

Cute dog :)

Found out his name yet?

* * *

 

Careful there Katie, your crush is starting to show.

I made a typo and now I shall officially be referring to Tomita in all notes as ' _Tomato_ '. Thank you as always to the best beta [KDXArt](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/kdx-art) and[Aknazer](https://aknazer.tumblr.com/) (who lets me hurl ideas at her) for all their help.

Also, if anyone has the time to fill out an interest form for another Kidge zine, you can find the link---->[here!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSd-AOBk1B2aicaDyVphNokzgWx7T9VyOynAWQdROJ4wQQCOoQ/viewform?usp=sf_link)


	19. Criticise Me

Monday morning arrived with all the calm that, in hindsight, always preceded any decision or choice a person made that resulted in significant change in their life, for better or worse.

As Katie made her way through the city for her train, she felt it in her anxious checks of her work appropriate make-up, and the triple checks of the clothes she’d picked out for her meeting before she picked up her rucksack, which she had tried (and failed) to not overfill with all her data old heavy duty drives. 

She’d have preferred a handbag, or even just a less-ratty backpack, but its shoulder straps weren’t completely gone yet, so it would serve its purpose for a little longer. It strained a little with her purse, her lunch, a datapad, as well as the heavy drives, but there wasn't much else for it.

She’d settled on another mix of the clothes she’d piled up thanks to Lance and Keith; the pink silky shirt, cream trousers, cream tweed jacket and beige flats. She even dug out her make up properly, happy to find out that her ability to differentiate the powders and creams hadn’t gone completely extinct since her late high school and early college years.

None of it was flashy, but comfortable and smart and if she wanted anyone in the room aside from Keith (who had done so since almost the first moment she had met him), to take her seriously, she needed to look a tad more professional than usual. That was what she told herself to justify the ‘ _ borrowing _ ’ again anyway.

That said, the material of the trousers felt nice, and they were easy to move in, and must have been hemmed from when Lance got her measurements when he dragged her on the shopping trip, because the leg length was perfect for once. The shirt was so light she hardly noticed it, and the flats didn't bite the back of her ankle the way most of her own two-for-ten-GAC supermarket pairs did.

The whole set was really, really comfortable. The jacket was maybe a tad too light, not really the kind of warm she needed on a late October morning, but she didn’t think the rain coat or her one puffy winter coat would really match the professional aesthetic she was trying to uphold today, and she couldn't help a shudder as she stepped from her building into the chilly west district streets.

It felt strange to be taking a different direction than the usual one after she made it to the monorail station. Heading towards the central district, the skyline began to rise with the sun as it crested the horizon. The skyscrapers and taller apartment buildings began to grow and spread into the suburbs as the monorail sped along its track to the central cluster, the towering swirling structures that climbed higher than the others.

Some of them were larger than others, but the one that drew her eye wasn't quite so extravagant. The Vermillion building sat a little to the west, rising above a smaller cluster of buildings, high enough to give the window cleaners nightmares for certain, but nowhere near as tall as some of its neighbours.

The shape was one she was familiar with; she’d never set foot in it until recently, but had seen it hundreds of times on news streams and in tech web-subscriptions. After exiting the monorail station, glowering at the grumpy git who bumped her shoulder and almost shoved her into the train door in their effort to get past first, Katie fell in amongst the other commuters, going through her presentation in her mind.

All the slides and projections were done, her blueprints were downloaded into the presentation too, and she had all of her facts and data. She had some notes sent to her work interface already. She just had to keep a cool, clear head, and she was sure it would go well. At least, she hoped it would. She didn't know what the shareholders were like (except that Tomita guy, who was a dickhead if ever she saw one), so couldn't be too sure about them, and Hunk seemed to think Keith was the biggest hindrance in regards to actually using nanotech the way she wanted to, but she was at least prepared.

There was also the problem of everyone assuming she’d slept with Keith; Katie was certain that wouldn't win her any points. In fact, she was trying not to think about the negative marks it had already accrued her, so she returned her attention to the streets, which were slowly opening out into the large square opposite the company headquarters.

Looking up, just before crossing the road and heading for the steps leading up to the main doors, she paused, taking it all in. Last time she hadn't really been paying attention, rushing for a finance meeting that turned out to be a waste of time anyway, now as she followed many of the other commuters along the streets, over the crossings, closer and closer towards the looming epicentre of the city, she couldn't help but stare at it.

It was built in a rounded style, with diamond criss-crossed windows on the first set of levels before rising and fading into the spire itself, a central, circular building which became narrower as it climbed. Spiraled around it were the offices and business rooms, fluted constructions which gave the building its distinctive shape. the windows faded from the lower, diamond shaped panels into full, flat glass spiraling up and up, till the top of the building met itself in a twisted point.

Taking a breath, Katie steeled herself, then headed over the road towards the steps, then through the main doors and into the entrance hall. Once the security guards had scanned her company ID, she made her way over to the reception, verifying her meeting with the curly haired receptionist. After he’d double checked a few screens and tapped out a few messages, he took the same one and slotted it into a machine. Its glow turned to a light purple, and he handed it back to her.

“Thank you Miss Holt,” he said, handing back her ID. “You should be able to use this in the lifts to access the executive floors,” he smiled. “Just show it to the security guard, and once inside, put it into the access slot. Someone will be waiting for you to show you the rest of the way to your meeting. Good luck!”

Nodding, Katie gave him a quick thank you, then headed past the desk and through the access barriers he had pointed out. Beyond them were the lifts, what looked like a cafe or bar area, some private meeting rooms, and a few offices. The guards in front of the lifts took her ID and after a scan of their own, opened up the lift.

After slotting her ID into the access machine next to the interface, there was a ping of agreement, and without any floor choosing, the lift started to move. Or at least, she assumed it was. She could hardly tell. It was completely silent, even from the usual annoying music.

With nothing to do but wait, she sighed and leaned back against the railing, opening up her interface and checking through her notes again. She’d half expected her ID to be rejected or something, but she was also probably too used to bad luck, and overthinking things. 

As the lift continued to glide, she tried to align her surroundings to her impression of their owner. It was easy to forget that Keith owned this company, the buildings, several others she knew to fall under the Hawkinovate umbrella, and countless subsidiary companies, but standing in the lift as it shot up, it was kind of hard to do now.

Looking at the unopened, unread reply in her messages on her interface, Katie sighed and quickly closed it down instead of opening the message that had been there since earlier that morning. It was much easier to think that there was no harm in taking steps towards a more personal relationship when she didn't really think of Keith as the CEO as much as her current surroundings were forcing her to. Somehow, she seemed to be not overly conscious and completely ignorant of that fact at the same time.

Having a good relationship was one thing. Taking the tangent of romance or sexual interest—which she unfortunately could no longer pretend she wasn’t thinking about—was something else entirely. It was risky, and if her brother knew where her thoughts were spiralling to before a process and development meeting instead of focusing on her finer detail presentation points, he’d knuckle her head. Or something else annoying like blow raspberries into her ear.

Of course, being invested as she was in the aforementioned CEO, aside from the less than stellar application of logic in her approach so far to the man, she would also think about everything she was telling herself was inappropriate.

Things like the scent of his cologne, stupid, over-confident but not really over-confident curl of a smile, warm hands, damn arse in those jeans and suits, and the single, soft, almost ghostlike press of his lips on her cheek. Then—inevitably—all that worry would be replaced buy unsatisfied, impatient sexual curiosity faster than Pyke’s thieving fingers in the presence of shiny magical relics.

She still didn’t know what she wanted to do in regards to the request Keith had asked the other day, the event thing. She couldn't even remember what it was, which was less than ideal when she’d decided to make up her mind after the meeting. She didn't know if Keith actually needed a date or just preferred company at these things, but either way to delay a response any longer would be rude.

She’d wait till after the meeting, then hopefully try to talk to Keith, or Lance. He’d probably know what it was. If she couldn’t speak to Keith directly she could always send a message too, though that felt a little too impersonal.

A slight shift told her the lift was beginning to slow, and she shook her mind away from her internal debate, focusing again as the floor stilled, and the doors slid open.

Stepping out into the hallway, she looked around, hoping to place herself. The decor was the same mix of blacks and whites and greys with accents of purple, or red, and there were a few smaller corridors leading away from the main one, but she didn't get the feeling they would be leading her anywhere useful.

Sure enough, as she started to head down the main hallway a familiar face appeared. Lance gave her a two-fingered salute as he jogged over, impossible to miss in the slim, pink suit and tie, crisp black shirt dotted at the cuffs with metallic circular enameled cufflinks, and shiny black leather loafers.

“Hey Pidge,” he greeted cheerfully. “Sorry I’m a bit late. It took a while to get out of the meeting. Follow me?”

He doubled back a few steps until she caught up then whirled around on one foot, leading her along a side hallway. Lance chatted away about the open day, asking her how it had been volunteering for the day, then going into a description of his sister-in-law’s new make-up collection she’d ‘forced him’ into help test out the marketing swatches for her male models.

He also mentioned a brother, and several more people she would probably have to look up to find out who they were, but the animated conversation was a welcome reprieve from her own dilemmas, and she happily retold the events of the day (well, most of them).

It continued to the end of the second hallway, where he led her to what looked like another lift.

“How much further is it?” She couldn’t help asking after Lance had scanned his ID, and the doors opened.

“Just a couple of floors,” Lance assured her after they had stepped inside.  “Hopefully by then the storm of discontent will have subsided...” he added, leaning back against the railing, tapping at his earpiece—which Katie presumed had an audio feed to the meeting—before wincing. “...though it doesn’t sound that way. Do you need anything to drink before we head in? I’m not sure they’re going to be ready by the time we get up there.”

Katie followed him into the lift and after a moment allowing her journey to the upper floors to resume, she shook her head. “I think I’m okay,” she said, watching the numbers on the holodisplay fade -  floors one to forty-seven had disappeared, and instead they travelled at a slower pace to ‘ _ E-3 _ ’, then again, and again until the doors pinged at the holographic counter switched to ‘ _ E-1 _ ’ slowly opening onto a wide hallway.

Like the rest of the building, the sleek walls had accents of red and purple, with clean white and black wall, some with holodisplays of previous articles, or simple decorations. 

One side was completely open to the windows, the huge sheets of glass circling around into the centre with an almost panoramic view of the city; it swarmed with activity on the ground below, and sprawled all the way out to the greenbelt and protected green zones that served as the city boundary.

The morning sun was rising just above it, and it glinted across the rooftops, the glass of the other skyscrapers, and she couldn't help but admire the view until the glass curved into the building, and tuned to the wall of the final floor.

The end of the glass marked the end of the hallway, and it revealed a large, open, circular area with several desks, and a few private rooms, maybe six at most. The sight of a cleaning bot emerging from one, and two others with familiar, neutral signage indicating toilets, added another three, but they were clearly identified.

It was fairly quiet, but still seemed like a hub of activity. One wall with some couches and a coffee area held a large set of holoscreens displaying news streams, what looked like a shares tracker, and another screen with the Hawkinovate logo looked like a schedule, or live update system of some kind.

Some of them had nameplates, or other identifying markers, but Lance led her past a large double-doored wall of darkened glass (pausing to grab a couple of datapads from the large empty desk just opposite the door) and further along the rest of the winding hall.

Passing along the wall, Katie cast her eyes on a line of photographs (real photographs, not holodisplays this time) beneath some more small holodisplays, which she realised upon sight of one featuring the grumpy CFO were the board members. Or were they shareholders? Both?

In any case, a digital display on the glass door identified it as the board room, and Katie felt her breath pick up and her blood spin in her veins as Lance mumbled something onto his earpiece, though she wondered if he was even heard.

Though the glass of the sliding door was obviously muffled and soundproof, she could still hear the dampened sounds of an argument inside, from several different voices. They snapped and snarled, and Katie swallowed a little at the thought of entering the room at all.

“Sounds like a party,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, but not quietly enough for Lance to miss. 

He gave a choked, high half laugh. “That certainly one word for it,” he grimaced, opening his datapad instead. “I've heard a few others though.”

“Is it always like this?” Katie asked curiously. If she had to come up here to argue her reasons for using nanotech for future projects too, then she hoped not. Considering she had a degree in the stuff, it was likely to be something of a focus, and the thought of coming up to this every time she wanted to use it wasn't appealing in the least.

Lance looked at the door. “Not always,” he shrugged, looking back at his datapad for a moment, before tucking it under his arm and tapping a code into the lock. “It just depends on the meeting. Tomita’s had a stick up his ass all morning, so things are a bit tense,” he said, putting a hand on the scanner that appeared following the code.

A silence had fallen in the room now, and Lance gave her an encouraging smile as the scan pinged happily. “Just make sure you keep them in your sights,” he advised. “Eye contact is your best friend.” The door slid open, and Lance stepped aside. “After you sweetness,” he winked encouragingly, before adding in a more responsible tone. “They’re ready for you.”

Katie almost rolled her eyes. “Save it for the pole dancers, Lance,” she chuckled, before inhaling deeply.

This wasn't a life or death end-of-her-career kind of meeting. She was prepared, and she was confident in her design. It would go well. Letting her breath out, Katie stepped into the room, towards whatever preconceptions (or conflict of interests) laid beyond the now open door.

* * *

 

Keith was resisting the urge to beat his forehead off the glass table in frustration when Lance left the room to go meet Katie from the lifts to the the last public floor.

“How exactly are any of us supposed to make a judgement call on this without a data dump?” he asked, flicking through the three pages of data that Tomita had scraped together to try and convince them all to support his half-baked schemes. Again. “You’re talking about major changes in company policy that would affect all of our employees!”

“I'm not talking about removing all of the schemes, just the smaller ones where we only make the quick returns, small loans and such,” Tomita huffed. “Those kinds of applications are easy to abuse by lower level staff who can't afford the returns. It wouldn't be a permanent suspension of services–just enough to do a better investigation.”

Keith flicked through the first page, a week’s worth of info on the scheme use, and the second two pages, which were accounts of an application for one of the small loans that had been denied. The name and employee details had been denied, but the time stamp on the report–12:07am, Wednesday, 14.10.2037–left Keith under no illusions as to  _ whose _ application had been supplied as an example.

He wasn't sure if this was supposed to be a subtle jab or not, and that left him a bit unsettled, but in any case, what Zarkon was suggesting was just… ridiculous.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to discuss this until you send out an updated report,” he said. “I'm not going to agree to suspend a major policy, even temporarily, just based off what you think might possibly be happening.”

“I second that Tomita,” Bogh said. “We can't just blindly make a decision without the evidence to back it up. You didn't have it last year when we voted against this, and while I’m willing to review it again for the sake of caution, I want to review all the data, not this pittance.”

“We didn't have the evidence to suggest that Lab A would fail to deliver their main contribution to the Taujeerian contract, Torseth, and now look where we are with that,” Zarkon spat. “I am not suggesting this to be difficult, I am recommending it in aims of preventing more problems!”

“I thought we agreed last week that we did have the evidence?” Sampson asked pointedly. “Mr. Hawkins gave it to you, and you ignored it. Given your judgement call in that, I can’t say I’m willing to trust you on blind faith in this.”

As Tomita glared at Sampson, and Sampson practically sneered with glee at the chance to jump at his throat, a small, silent message from Lance appeared on Keith’s interface

‘ _ Heading up again. _ ’ 

Keith had no idea if that was a good thing or not, but he’d take anything over the back and forth still flying around his ears.

“I don't even know why you're bringing this up again,” Ladnok sighed, clicking the end of her datapad stylus irritably against her temple. “Our public image has been rising since the employee schemes returned, significantly, something I can illustrate for you right now,” she said, sending out a trending graph; it was animated, and showed the steady rise against the axis margins in terms of public perception since the schemes had been reinstated several years back.

“That’s a point too,” Bogh mused. “Our new branding is built on those, and you’ve already cut the budget this year.”

“Thank you,” Ladnok huffed with relief. “I’m sorry, but if you want to take a vote on this, then until I can see a full report, mine is automatically against. Based on my own data, I don’t believe the schemes are as detrimental as you claim, and quite frankly, we can't afford to rework three years of new branding and public imaging just because you still can't get to grips with the radical idea of having high standards in our employee support structure.”

‘ _ We’re in the hallway now. Say when! _ ’

“Reinstated, not radical,” Antok said calmly. “Is there any more point in discussing this? We’ve wasted time already, and we have external appointments and conference calls today.”

Indeed they had. Keith had also wanted to go through some tentative enquiries on possible candidates for the new position that would be opening after Kolivan’s retirement today; the company was going to need a new Chief Operations Officer, soon, which would present its own set of problems.

While Kolivan still held the position for a few more days, his absence had been notable at the meetings for several months and after Keith’s first year, when he’d started trying to be less of a presence. Functionally, Keith was sure they would manage without one for a few more months–he, Sampson, and Torseth split much of the work between themselves already–but they couldn't do it forever for a company of this scale.

However, the COO wasn't just an executive position; it had the most direct control and influence on the company besides his own, and it was usually something of a training wheels placeholder for the company successor. 

Keith had never personally been in the position; the combination of his parents’ shares and the ownership of the company itself more or less skipped him past it, much to the irritation of many, not just Tomita. 

While his parents had been alive, it had been Kolivan’s. He had initially taken over the company for a while as acting CEO for a while, but had later stepped back when the stress of running a global mega-company, raising an incredibly hot-headed and ignorant teenager, and increasing age and health concerns became a bit to much. Then he’d gone back to the position, handing the main control over to Tomita.

By the time Keith had started his internship through Arslan, he was already back to his previous position, and had been there ever since. But while it had a bit of a messy and abnormal history within the company, Keith needed to be very careful about who he chose as the next one, because the last thing he wanted was a back-seat driver.

Many of the board members were new, replacements made by Tomita a few years before he took his own position, and it was the norm in plenty of other businesses; he was more than sure at least one of them, if not Tomita himself, would look at it that way. 

The position had to be handled carefully, but right now, Keith’s options were limited. He had planned on starting inquiries on what the others felt would be required today, but now they would barely have time for the normal weekly follow ups and lab checks, so he would just have to live with a note to make an email to each of the board members individually about the problem later.

“No, there's not,” Keith said, hoping to take the pause in the room’s temperament and redirect the conversation. He looked down the table at the fuming CFO and took a breath for calm. “Tomita, if you really want to bring this up–again–for review, then you need to bring in more data. I’m pretty certain Lance told you that on Wednesday. Unless you have more than a week’s worth of support data, don’t bother bringing this up until you do.”

There was a murmur of agreement, but a silence too; Tomita glowered through the thick of it from the other end of the table, but Keith ignored the man’s venomous stare. He was hardly being deliberately difficult. Everyone else managed to back up their changes and new plans with plenty of research. Tomita usually did too, but all of a sudden he was jumping into rabbit holes he couldn’t dig himself out of. It was weird, and it had happened at the last meeting too.

Maybe it would be worth having a meeting with him at some point? If only to try and grab an idea of what the hell the man was thinking right now. It might even help his attitude a bit. Tapping into his screen, he made a note to think about it some more later.

Checking the time, he tapped a quick reply to Lance. As he split up documents and diagrams across his holoscreens so they could be referenced as needed– opening up the datadump that Katie had sent to Hunk the previous day, which had been forwarded ahead to him–the door opened again, and he watched from the corner of his eye as Katie stepped into the room, Lance close behind. 

“Let’s leave the reviews to the end of the meeting. As for Uisgemul, we can time the marketing proposals around the call with BAKU-Corp; we’ll need their input anyway.”

There were a few nods, and screens tapped and dragges as interface displays were rearranged; unfortunately, it was impossible to please everyone, and after being so thoroughly downvoted by the other board members, the low, frankly disgusting, commentary from Tomita was unsurprising.

“By all means, let’s see if this woman can code as well as she can suck dick.” 

The comment drew a few eyebrows as Lance closed the door, including Sampson (who usually ignored everything involved in board room bickers), and a sneer of disgust from Lowes, but really, much as he hated admitting it, he wasn't surprised at all. 

If Zarkon couldn't get his way, he always found a way to undermine something else he disagreed with, and he’d made it clearly plain as day that he found Katie Holt to be one of those things. Of course he’d resort to mockery and insult to try and undermine her.

Keith had not been entirely certain how to act during this meeting. On the one hand he could hardly pretend he didn’t know Katie when the whole room knew otherwise, and at least three of the other board members suspected their personal intimacy stretched beyond a first name basis, but he hoped that she hadn't heard the comment, and couldn't help a few concerned glances in her direction as she headed down the table. 

Lance led her around to the access point so that she could set up her interface, and Keith watched as she pulled out a couple of small data drives from her handbag, both about twice the size of an account payment card.

“Gentlemen, Miss Lowes,” Lance nodded breaking the silence after he had led Katie towards the access point for her to set up her interface. “Miss Katie Holt, here with an update for Lab A’s Taujeerian contract and to outline an application for use of nanotech in its development.”

“Hello,” She said, looking up from her set up for a moment, looking around the room at the other board members. “Thank you for giving me the time to discuss the future of this project with you all.”

Torseth and Sampson gave their nods and calm greetings, and Lowes offered something a bit more open; the rest were merely polite, but Keith didn’t miss the moment when upon catching Tomita’s irritated glare, Katie immediately turned back to her datadrives to finish her set up. 

“Welcome to the Boardroom, Miss Holt,” Keith greeted, turning back to his copy of the updated blueprints now linked to the room from the 3D projector. “We’ll begin whenever you’re ready.”

* * *

Katie had once had to cover for Romelle on the poles. It had been early in her career at Xanthuria, maybe about two months after starting. She’d had a little training, and had been thinking about moving to them thanks to the resulting tips. 

It had been a chance to see if she was really cut out for it the same way she was bar work, and she had been very careful not to tell her brother or parents about it. She’d been close to her 21st birthday, and had been certain that they would all have begged her to give up on getting her degree at Fort Garrit instead of GalTech had they known she was planning to supplement her bar work with pole dancing and stripping. 

Thankfully, she hadn't been cut out for it at all. One night was enough for her to know she wouldn't be able to bear the pressure and tension that came from exposing herself on a metal pole to strangers. She’d initially taken lessons which ran during the day for the exercise, and that was where their purpose remained while she focused on mixology.

Katie hadn't expected that pressure, but upon walking into the boardroom, she couldn't help but feel it once again; the impression that she was already under scrutiny.

“Gentlemen, Miss Lowes; Miss Katie Holt, here with an update for Lab A’s Taujeerian contract and to outline an application for use of nanotech in its development,” Lance introduced her, after pointing out the hub for the projector.

The table seemed to twist in the middle, the glass surface rippling over itself, each end slightly adjacent to each other, with an indent where she could approach to set up her data drives into the central projector. Walking past one end of the table, she was conscious of all the people in the room centering their gaze on her, but mostly the one that followed from the end nearest the door.

As she started typing passcodes into the interface and setting up her files, she snuck a gaze down the table at Keith, then quickly focused; the stark contrast in ‘ _ Work Keith _ ’ and the man who’d helped her clean out dog pens the other day wasn't just in the smart black suit and white shirt, collar peeking over a thin red jumper with brown and cream block stripes. Rocket shaped cufflinks poked out under the sleeves on his shirt cuffs, and his suit jacket was dumped over the back of his seat beside a thick shearling coat.

It almost looked too casual for a meeting with the jumper, but his expression was the same on from the last progress meeting for the arm; so focused that he was oblivious to anything but the notes in front of him, with only a couple of fleeting glances in her direction.

“Hello,” she said, getting started on the passwords and linking her drives up, quickly looking around the room at all the faces, trying to commit them to memory, and try to remember who each one was. “Thank you for giving me the time to discuss the future of this project with you all.”

Two of the men gave her a couple of friendly nods and calm words of greeting, and the woman in a smart check-print skirt suit something slightly more welcoming, asking about her journey over, and had she had any problems finding the floor, but across the table there was another look which was as piercing as Keith’s meagre glances, only much less pleasant. 

Mr. Tomita was positively glowering at her as she set up her datadrives; unable to help wrinkling her nose a bit, she blotted the stare out, and tapped the last passwords into the table’s embedded interface keyboard.

“Welcome to the Boardroom, Miss Holt.” 

Keith’s voice cut through the unpleasant silence, and something in the tone, the steady sound of the words, and the gentle distraction from the unpleasant man sitting across the table, or perhaps the deliberate calm pace, sent a shiver down her back, and she looked up, her blueprints appearing from the 3D projector in the centre of the table. “We’ll begin whenever you’re ready.”

Taking a breath, Katie turned her attention back towards the central projector. The more she thought about it, having the surprise attention might be in her benefit. She’d had presentations in college before, mainly in her efforts to try and convince the medical school to let her and Romelle have a cadaver for their testing needs, which had utterly failed because she couldn’t keep anyone on topic, or hadn’t been used to the quick back and forth.

Right now, she  _ was _ the topic; even if it was just to see if she would fail to meet standards, she already had the attention to get her designs out and make it clear how and why nanotech needed to be used in them. Aside from the asshole looking across from her, no-one else looked like they wanted anything but a normal presentation; they just wanted an update on the project, and she had that and a bit more.

Starting up the slides she’d set up over the past few days, Katie took a silent, but deep breath, focusing on the decorations of the room to calm herself. A few potted plants–she dreaded to think how much the tax for those were–with stark red petals, and some art pieces on the wall. 

Nerves settled, she centred her mind on the task at hand. With the press of a few buttons, the central projector lit up with the blueprints and diagrams of the former project, fully fleshed, but otherwise no different from the initial designs as far. 

“I’d like to start with the initial design flaws of this project, which are what pushed me into the changes that require approval for the use of nanotech,” she began, watching the slides as they showed some of the data from Summer’s files. “Approaching this with the goal of creating a usable piece of equipment for the Taujeerian emergency response teams, my first impression was that this was just a software problem, but after taking a closer look at the hardware notes, the design blueprints, and examining the internal processors and taking one of the pads down to its bones in the lab, I realised the problems weren’t limited to the programming.”

Flicking her hands as she spoke, Katie cycled through a few more images of the planning notes, zooming in on some of the processors, as well as the outer casing.  “While the software wasn’t coded properly, that is easily fixable; it's not hard to make new apps or software. Unfortunately, the hardware hasn’t been properly coated to tolerate extreme temperatures,” she explained. 

“So that’s why they stopped working at such low temperatures, besides the faults in the programming?” the woman–Katie was sure her name was Ladnok Lowes–asked.

“Yes,” Katie nodded, turning a little to her right to speak to her a little better. “Most of the internal processors haven't had any thermal treatment, and there's no thermoregulation in the design beyond that for basic datapads. There isn't even any carbon fibre in the coating; the apps can be fixed but if the datapads get too close to anything over forty to fifty degrees celcius, they’ll loose processing power. If they were to be exposed to the temperatures the Taujeerians deal with, they’d probably be too hot to even handle, let alone function.” 

“And?” the grumpy ass prompted. “We’re already well aware of the mistakes in the design Miss Holt, if you’d get to the point, I think that would be a much better use of our time than stating the obvious.”

“Actually Tomita,” a man seated beside Keith interrupted before she could say anything–for good or ill–in response to the baiting. “I haven’t seen anything regarding thermoinsulation in Summer’s notes,” he said. 

“I’d quite like to hear a little more about this too,” the man on her other side, an older man with grey hair said. He, Katie knew from the news and techstreams–Antok Duvall. “Keith?”

“It will be good for the investigation,” Keith agreed, before, perhaps sensing her slight fumble for where to go from, caught her eye. “You were saying? About the design flaws? How significant are we talking?”

“Quite frankly, they’re useless,” Katie said, finding her feet again, and her train of thought with them as she eyed Tomita and his judgemental attitude with a certain relish. “The reason carbon fibre doesn’t show up in the reports is because it isn’t there; I even went into the file data to see if it had got stuck or caught a virus, but it's just not been included at all. I took one apart and had it tested.”

“Why go that far?” the man sitting between Tomita, and the man next to Keith said . He was younger than the others–though still older than Keith–and had a very relaxed manner in the way he held himself.

“I wanted to be sure I had a full understanding of the schematics,” she explained easily. “Sometimes the materials can have an impact on the inner workings, which in turn affects what kind can be used, and following that, the type of code. It has a bigger impact with microtech too. I was trying to work out what kind of restrictions would have been put in by the thermoregulation prep. Once I realised there wasn't any in place, I had to try to think of something else to–”

“Mr. Summer is a GalTech graduate, and while he has obviously made errors in this case, he is one of our best scientists,” Tomita interrupted her once again, his eyes uneasily curious now. “I don't recall your face amongst this years graduates. Where do you find the arrogance to doubt the capabilities of your colleagues?”

At the other end of the table Keith clicked his stylus pen against his forehead, each one a tick of frustration that provided a soundtrack to the growing miasma of frustration and irritation Katie was experiencing with the older man looking at her with the same demeaning sneer from when she’d knocked into him during her interview.

“You wouldn’t have. I qualified for the Akira Programme when I was in high school,” she said hoping her thudding heartbeat and nerves could be passed off as meeting pressure; why did he have to ask her about GalTech? Of all the things to talk about, he picked the one topic that had the only chance needed to end her career before it started, again. “I left the college itself before I could complete my PhD for personal reasons, and finished it at GarrittU,” she said, her heartbeat thudding, hoping to the founders that he didn't ask any more. “As for the issues I mentioned, they have nothing to do with confidence or who designed what; any other researcher would have performed the same checks, and found the same problems.” 

“I’m afraid I find myself more willing to trust the judgement of someone who has been employed for several years now,” the man snorted. “Perhaps Mr. Hawkins trusts your...” he paused, a sneer forming on his lips, prequel to an indelicate inflection in his voice  “... _ expertise _ , but he has as much industry experience as you do. Taking ridiculous risks and making gradiouse claims like this isn't how we keep this company in business.”

Katie did not precisely  _ see _ Keith’s face, but she felt the tension in the room heightened so much it felt like tight cords of spider silk around her neck and chest, holding her rigid with the shakes beneath her feet like the floor would implode beneath them.

The word hung around her ears with a skin tingling unpleasantness; several others were shifting uncomfortably, exchanging freons of uncertainty, or staring with obvious surprise at the man who had spoken. Keith was clicking his stylus in frustration. It echoed through the room as Tomita gave a satisfied huff of approval, straightening his suit lapels. 

The offhand dismissal encouraged the pops of red throughout the room flood her eyes. “And clearly, Mr. Tomita,” she said, her voice calm, breathy and quiet. “You’re not listening to anything except your own ego.” 

This time the silence in the room wasn’t so much from horror, just surprise; Keith’s datapad stylus pen was still half clicked in, pressed against his temple by a frozen hand, and he–like the others in the room–was staring at her.

“Excuse me?” Tomita blinked after a few moments of silence, in which Katie watched his face twitch as he realised that yes, she had in fact, just sassed him.

“The files you’re trying to laud as superior quality, and beyond my scope of understanding, had no data on what efforts had been made in the production to ensure the basic requirements of the brief from the client–that is, the ability to function in extreme climates,” she stated bluntly. 

Tapping into her datapad, she quickly changed the presentation to the more indepth development schematics; her own improved ones on side, and the initial ones she’d received from Summer on the other; several of the executives she knew had basic engineering backgrounds (she knew Keith had a degree besides his business one), but even without any technological fluency, the differences were obvious.

“There is no thermoregulation in these products, and as a result, they are currently unsuited for the purpose they have been designed for; it is now my job to correct that after the initial developers failed to deliver what was required,” she repeated, wondering if she needed to start talking to the man like he was a child to explain it to his clear prejudice. “And yet, when I tell you which problems need to be addressed, rather than worry about how these problems were allowed to make it to alpha testing, you’re more concerned about why I bothered to double check in the first place, and whose metaphorical toes I could be stepping on!” she added, her temper flaring a little despite her initial internal pep talks about keeping calm and focused. 

She was going to keep rambling and she’d already done enough of that; she needed to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus on something on something, anything, before she talked herself into a hole she couldn't get out of.

Founders, this was like talking to the GalTech boards, only worse, because at least none of those people doubted her intelligence, even in the process of near-ruining her career.

Beside her she could get a faint scent of Ms. Lowes perfume, but the scent that she invariably picked up on was stronger. Maybe. It could have been her imagination making it up for her, but she could almost taste the thick, warm spice of Keith’s cologne on her tongue. Glancing along the table, she wasn't sure what she expected, but the expression on his face–a smirk bitten back to keep in laughter and eyes that pierced into her with the intent, assured gaze–was reassuring.

And a little thrilling.

“Unless you have a degree in nanotech to back up your own speculation around my expertise, or you're going to ask any relevant questions, can you shut up and let me talk to the people who would like to focus on fixing the real problems with this project?”

The room was still silent, a nervous palpitation not unlike her rapid heartbeat in the air; Tomita looked like he’d been struck by lightning, and not in a good way. Less shocked, and more horrified and outraged to the extent that he’d forgotten how words functioned.

Finally, the silence was broken by Mr. Duvall’s polite voice.

“I'm sorry Miss Holt, I lost track for a moment; could you summarise your primary statement on the immediate concern flaws again?” he asked calmly, perhaps too calmly; Katie got the impression he was secretly smug about something. “For the notes?”

Katie took a breath again, trying to calm, focus. “The casing need to be replaced,” she repeated a little more calmly, hoping this was a chance to get back to her main topic. “Carbon fibre would be a good place to start, but there are other materials which would work just as well, or better. THC alloy comes to mind. Whatever material we use, without any basic outer casing protection, the pads are useless to the point that it would actually be easier to start from scratch.”

“Which we do not have the time for,” another man, on the opposite end of the table beside Tomita said. “Your job is to fix this project, not make something new.”

“I’m aware of the time constraints,” Katie frowned, determined not to lose her temper again. “So I had to see what I could tweak, and what I would have to make up for with the software,” she continued, moving through the different slides, zooming in on one for the casing. “However this isn't just a case of fixing; new casing will  _ have _ to be developed if there to be anything worth sending to the Taujeerians.”

“How long will that take?” Ms. Lowes asked.

“I can manage a quick fix job in about two weeks,” Katie said confidently. “It wouldn't be the best, but rather than develop a new coating we could reuse an old formula. It would work, and take less time.”

“How long to develop something newer?” a large man seated a couple of places down from Mr. Tomita, next to Keith asked.

“At least three, but probably closer to four just for development,” she informed him. “Then it would have to be implemented into design for the production teams. That could be about a week.”

He was pensive for a moment before looking to Keith. “While I’m all for trying to save time, we can't really afford to cheap out for this particular contract. Do you think if we approached Mrs. Cummings with the details, we could arrange an extension?” He asked him, checking something on his interface. “At the moment we’re still within the original time constraints, but if something better functioning will take up time, I think it might be worth it.”

“I’ll speak with her after the meeting,” Keith frowned, his eyes focused on the blueprints once again, looking in particular at the structural outline. “She’s not interested in shortcuts to meet the brief; when I called her about the initial delays, she was supportive in the interests of quality, so I think she might be willing to extend our deadline. If we  _ can _ do that, it would be the best option to take.” He looked up, catching her eye fully. “For now, let’s stick to the current suggestions, but I’d like to go through other alterations and redesigns as a preparatory measure.”

“I also think there needs to be a look at the process involved in the alpha testing itself–can we arrange something for that next week?” Antok said quietly to Keith, and the other man (Sampson! His name was Mr. Sampson-she remembered it from one of the last update streams). 

Both nodded, then Keith zoomed in on the internal workings. “The key question now then; how will nanotech be involved?” he asked, asking his question to her directly. “So far you’ve only mentioned the fixes we need to address. Is the nanotech is part of those improvements? To make the design up to brief standard?”

“The problems were what led me to it, but if I have more time with the outer coating, it would definitely be an element in that too - I’ve included a file on it in the datadump,” she nodded, into her datapad again, accessing a small stream file. “It mostly comes into giving the datapads a wider range of function. I looked at the different elements developed for the Taujeerian contract with that in mind after working on a personal project, which after being given this one, I’ve also adapted to suit the brief.”

Opening the file, she watched on the holo screen as the triangular robot blinked to life, hovering and twirling in the air as her fingers guided it on the datapad, all filmed by the labs in built cameras.

“This is Rover,” she introduced. “This bot was originally just a small streaming, access, and security bot with tech maintenance intelligence software; combining him with the datapads; I've tweaked that software, so now aside from those functions, the bot will also scan and absorb seismic data, casualty and health data from victims and survivors, and analyse air conditions. I'd like to add some more functions like sample collection, as well as lasers; it's designed for use as a group of small bots that can be utilised by all fields within the rescue teams: reconstruction workers, medics, security teams, rescue workers, and scientists monitoring hazardous conditions.”

“Lasers...” Keith tested the word uneasily. His frown wasn't the disgusted scowl of Tomita, but it was clear alarm bells had started. “What kind of strength?”

“They would have a strength ranging from grade one to grade three, slightly above the PhaseBlade used by surgeons,” she replied, ignoring the glower slowly travelling across the table towards her from Tomita. “The idea with their application would be to help those clearing rubble, or with first responders in treating wounded.”

Keith was still frowning, but didn’t ask anything else, and so, she moved on, bringing up some more pages on the presentation. “Obviously, the bot will be made from materials designed to withstand high temperatures, as well as to block out pyroclastic dust and other similar particle debris from the internal mechanisms.

“Do you have any materials in mind?” Ladnok asked; her eyes were flicking between a few different diagrams of internal and external schematics for the datapads and Rover, and a couple more from the main report.

“Zirconium boride, rhenium, again THC Alloy, carbon fibre, a few graphites,” Katie informed her, glad for another easy, unbiased question. “The full list is on page thirty-seven and an outline of which parts of the design they would be used for.”

Ms. Lowes nodded, taking a closer look at the list, before smiling, looking amused. “I see you’ve already included materials costs, and just under budget,” she looked beyond Katie to the man across the table with something that could only be office or departmental rivalry. “That should save you a mountain of paperwork Tomita.”

The tension strung between the two executives in front of her wasn’t as bad as the blatant glares, but Katie knew better than to add to Ms. Lowes’ words with her own comments. Quickly, she moved on to her next point–and the crux of her presentation; nanotech.

“The lasers aren't the only reason for nanotech would be required. The other is its information sharing; currently, the data can be used at a distance using camera feeds and to collect the data sent back by the bots, but to collect and process that much data they need a better kind of processing power.”

“How would that be implemented?” Mr. Duvall asked, in the same polite voice as he had used before. “Bearing in mind current time constraints while I’m not against improving this as much as we can, without confirmation, Mr. Gal is correct; we don't have the time to replace everything.”

“It would just be an additional part to facilitate the information pick up,” she assured him, feeling a little more confident again. She had been worried that most of the executives would share the finance ejit’s view, but so far they had been relatively reasonable. “Providing the casing problem is solved, these datapads aren't much more than tricked out basic consumer designs; if they're going to be at all functional, they need at the very least improved memory, processing, and visualisation power, not to mention any kind of boost they can get towards working in extreme conditions; nanotech is extremely reliable here because the size of the tech means it doesn't overheat, and it can also function in cold climates. It would function with a basic coating.”

He nodded and returned to his note transcriptions; there was a recording too, judging by one of the visualisers on his interface, the side of which she could just make out.

“Miss Holt?” Mr. Sampson asked before she could move on.

“Yes?” she asked, 

“You mentioned earlier that it would be easier to start this project again from scratch; if you had the time to remake the datapads, with the ideas that you've presented in mind, how would you design them?” he asked.

For a moment she was caught off guard; she hadn’t expected anyone to ask her something that in-depth. Mostly because she had been more worried that bias wouldn’t let her get that far. She recovered from the shock quickly though, and brought up the final slides on the projection in the centre of the table.

“For one thing, I’d make them smaller,” she drafted, activating an animation to show the changes from the large data pad to something just a little larger than one of Keith’s account cards. “Or rather, aside from keeping the datapad as a control hub of sorts, I’d change the function for direct use by rescue workers; a hand scanner, or even just a small wrist processor rather than a datapad would be much more functional in terms of giving rescue workers live information, and since that would require more nanotech, I could improve the bots too. Give individual workers more control on them,” she explained, flicking to the next holodisplay of a prototype design for a wrist processor.

“And the lasers?” Keith asked, his voice cutting through the building enthusiasm from the other executives. “How would they be regulated?” he asked. “While this won't become a public market development, it will be filtered into the MRTs’ emergency support services, including military medical teams. We can restrict design adaptations with copyrights, but tuning their power down will only go so far.” he said. “Anything that will give even a remote chance for military to deconstruct the tech and develop it for their own purposes will have to be redesigned, especially with current political climates.”

“They would be attuned to individual interfaces, thereby eliminating any security risks; each person would have their own bot, and there would be a permanent record of its use,” Katie said quickly, ignoring the sharp tone and the mild increase in her heartbeat that had nothing to do with nerves. “It would be easy to install a feature that blocks them from interfaces unregistered to the rescue teams, which it would shut down that function completely when not in use by the assigned user…” she paused. “I could also attune Rover to be more reactive to individuals that way, to follow and interact based on voice commands automatically, like those annoying little camera bots.”

“I imagine you're less familiar with the tech itself rather than it’s effects; is that suggestion from  _ personal _ experience, Miss Holt?” 

Katie was, at this point, considering the benefits of reaching across the table and gagging the infuriating man with his own tie, since he clearly had a different perception than the rest of his co-workers on the definition of the word ‘ _ relevant _ ’.

“Obviously; its functioning technology that can be applied to this mess with the aim of fixing it. Where does it matter where I got the idea from as long as it works?” Katie asked, a little waspishly, trying not to grit her teeth; she was starting to see why Keith had given up with rational explanations with the man. “Even better, it's already Hawkinovate tech, so it won't cost anything in copyrights.”

“The cameras were designed for medics to record surgeries for evaluation and to help supplement medical education,” Keith mused. “Originally at least, before they filtered to mass market. The application would be simple enough to implement in the design?” he asked.

“Easily. The use of nanotech would also mean that the software would also no longer be restricted to the pads themselves; all of the other contributions to the project use nanotech, but this datapad, which was described in Mr. Summers brief as an information processing point, couldn't receive any of that data.”

She paused, taking another breath before she got caught up in her own eagerness and hope at the thought of having more time to tinker and really make her own mark on a project that would be on a global market.

“That said, it would be a lot of work combined with the structural fixes, and the inclusion of a very basic bot alongside the pad; if it's just to the current deadline, the only nanotech would be from installing PhaseBlade and processing tech. Without more time, I won't be able to rework the design to include the other features that would synchronise with the other developments.”

“Would including nanotech really improve it enough it would be worth the extra hassle in finding more time? Even with a basic design, any external data should still be able to be collected without including nanotech. It sounds like additions for the sake of adding things to me.” Mr. Tomita asked. “Not to mention the risks involved with information processing; Keith has already expressed his concerns about the lasers, but the processing system in nanotech is one of the key parts of our technology that the MRT military has been trying to access for years. Is including it really necessary?”

Katie really wanted to choke the man, but he had actually asked a valid question, one which Hunk had also grilled her with when she showed him her presentation draft. A few other heads had perked up too, Keith’s included. At least it wasn’t an impossible one.

“It is if the product is supposed to meet company standards as well as basic requirements. As for the security risks, I've already explained the preventions that would be applied with the lasers, and the basic bots,” she started, her tone calm and level as she repeated her explanation for the first set of security measures.

Precautions were a part of the design process that she had learned to give the due diligence they deserved the hard way, and that even with protection and insurance, the accountability would only strike in one place. She had scoured every code and every database in the Hawkinovate archive, and she was confident that they were strong enough to take away the concerns of the tech being repurposed.

“And regarding Tomita’s point?” Keith asked; his tone wasn’t as sharp but she heard the caution in it. 

“I've consulted with Mr. Galuvao and Miss Rizaavi in my own lab, as well as Miss Ina Leifsdottir from Lab A, Mr. Wingert from Lab B, Mrs. Yama from Lab C and Mr. Suzushi from Lab E,” she said, bringing up the videos of the other development projects. “The improvements will allow the bots and datapads to integrate with the BLIP-tech visors, chemical and hydro detonators, the mobile water carriers and terrain stabilisers, evacuation transporters, medical equipment, and the other analysis tools developed by the other teams, allowing relief workers to properly analyze and collect information live from the field, including the animal rescue team equipment,” she said. 

Taking a breath, she collected her words for the final point. 

“With the method I mentioned earlier, the information will be locked to those projects only; it won’t be transferable, and if anyone does find a way to get around interface tracking, it would count as misuse under basic technology law, and violation of technological safety law,” she explained, keeping the shake of nerves out her voice; she was unfortunately intimately acquainted with those laws, and their loopholes. “They would be opening themselves up to prosecution.”

She managed to keep the anxiety out of her voice as she spoke, and watched as Keith chewed on his lip, one hand flicking through one of the pages of the data dump. Pulling her eyes away, she looked around at the rest of the room.

“That concludes my presentation. So,” Katie turned her eyes back to Mr. Tomita, who looked like his overdue mid-life crisis had caught up with him. “Is that good enough to prove I know how to do my job, or do you still think I should stick to sucking dick?”

Ms. Lowes pressed a hand to her lips to hide her light snicker, and Mr. Sampson has to thump the man beside him on the back when his attempts to hide his own launched him into a small coughing fit. 

Tomita was staring with his mouth slightly agape; whether from the question itself, the quote of his own inappropriate words turned around, the fact that she had asked him a question at all, or all three, she didn’t know, but she did a mimic of her mother and felt brave enough to raise an eyebrow.

He gaped a little more, stuck for words, and a disbelieving stare on his face.

“Miss Holt asked you a question, Tomita.”

Her back tingled as Keith’s voice, amused, echoed after her own throughout the room. There was something satisfying about it. Not just the man’s silence and anger at being fed his own insults, but the lionising that Keith’s calm, verbal support provided.

“I…” the man was almost spitting as he spoke. “...apologise. I was judgemental.” he said, his words congested by his own reluctance.

The silence stretched on a little longer, before Keith tapped out a few commands on his interface. “Well, I think the only thing left is to vote on this. We need to get onto the Hydroscheme marketing proposals, so I want this decided now,” he said. “Lance, could you show Miss Holt where she can wait while we discuss this please?”

Lance was already heading round the end of the table. After cramming her data drives into her backpack (which refused to close from the amount of crap in there despite her attempts) Katie followed him back towards the door, conscious of all the eyes on her as she hefted her backpack in her arms instead of carrying the thing (last thing she needed was all her datadrives falling out because it wouldn't close properly).

As she passed behind Lowes and the other executives, she could see a poll appear on Ms. Lowes’ holoscreen, and on the projector, a blank results collator had appeared, hovering in the centre of the table as they approached the door.

“Sampson,” Keith’s voice asked behind her as the door slid open, and the feeling of being watched intently–but not unpleasantly–faded. “Thoughts?”

Stepping through the doorway with Lance once again, the door closed behind her, leaving Katie oblivious to the debate on what had, so far, been one of the most intense meetings she’d experienced.

She’d done her best, and felt good about it, even having to deal with the infuriating CFO. She had made her point, had an answer for all the questions she had been asked, and had been able to defend her ideas against the design criticism.

All she had left to do was wait. Following Lance to another office hidden behind blackened glass walls with sliding doors, she sat down on the sofas he showed her, and pulled out her phone to check her emails and to message Hunk to let him know how things had gone.

She couldn't help pausing over the first notification, alerting her to Keith’s mid-meeting message in response to her own the previous night, before diving in and tapping out a reply first to that, then to Hunk’s panicked slew of pings.

Then, after she had checked her messages, the euphoria of success drained from her as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by vain frustration, anger, and defeat upon sight of the last notification on the glossy screen.

* * *

**Keith Hawkins**

There are no previous messages.

\---18th October 21:37pm---

 

Cute dog :)

Found out his name yet?

 

\---19th October 12:01pm ---

I have some ideas. 

I’ll tell you after this meeting finishes up ;)

Looking forward to it.

* * *

**Hunk Galuvao**

Scroll for previous messages

\---19th October 10:37pm---

hope everything goes okay!

nadia said good luck too

lance just messaged me, please, please, do    
not let tomita get to you hes a total prick

[   _ video sent  _  ]

KATIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING

DON’T GOAD HIM. PLEASE. 

are you out yet?

what's happening?

are you okay?

hey im good

im out now

lance was filming that, wasnt he?

i promise im fine

long story short, that chump was everything you said he    
would be so i gave him a lesson in manners.

and i think Lowes likes me, cause she looked like she was gloating

 

this is not filling me with confidence.

i think its good?

are they voting?

yup, im just killing time   
waiting somewhere

[   _ fingers-crossed emoji  _  ]

[   _ fingers-crossed emoji _   ]

* * *

**From:** MarmoranRepublicTerritoiesPDE@Gov.org.mrt

 **To:** KatieHolt@733PiantaRise.FG-East.mrt

 **Subject:** Interface Restriction Notice

 **Sent:** 19 **.** 10 **.** 2037 (09:21pm)

* * *

**Marmoran Republic Territories Personal Data Encryption Services.**

Miss Katie Holt,

Thank you for registering your new device to your interface. 

We have begun the process of re-synchronising your personal interface to your database extension device, and after all connections and security protocols have been performed and approved, your new device will be fully operational with your personal database.

Before this can begin, it is my duty to inform you that in accordance with Section 07 of International Interface Protection Law, all resynchronisation of personal interfaces are subject to random checks following the data fraud scandal committed by in 2023 Jack Newley.

This is to ensure all personal data is fully encrypted, and cannot be tampered with or used for digital criminal activity. This is not a background check, or result of suspicious activity on your part.

All checks are randomised, but are a legal requirement and, before any further progress in resynchronisation can occur, must be authorised. 

If following random selection, your database is selected for these checks, this will result in limited access during the investigation period. This can last for a minimum of 6 months, or longer depending on the duration of interface activity, content, and past usage. You will be given an estimation of how long your interface will held in limited access within a month of selection.

Restriction includes access to personal contacts, data, network storage drives, in order for full cheeks against your interface history to take place.

An automated email will be sent to your employer so that work arrangements can be arranged, if your database is selected for these checks. 

Failure to do so will result in full desynchronisation of your database from the Marmoran Republic national network.

Please authorise the synchronisation checks by providing your digital ID.

[   _ ID Confirmed _   ]

**Katie Holt**

Thank you for your confirmation.

As a result of random selection, your account has been selected for examination in accordance with Section 07  of International Interface Protection Law.

You have five days before your interface enters restrictions placed by the security checks. If you would like to contest this decision, details can be found on the Personal Data Encryption Services website under legal help.

We apologise for any inconvenience caused by the checks, and thank you for your understanding in this matter.

Sincerely,

_ Manset Chalk. _

Interface and Extension Device Compromise Department.

* * *

This chapter was a little bit longer, hence the delay. Also, work was kind of insane for a while  ~~don't ask me about highland games night it was scarier than friday night weekends at the pub~~ and then i just. needed a break. But things should be back to something more regular soon! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you as always to [@Aknazer](https://aknazer.tumblr.com/) for ideas bouncing and [@KDXArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAdrenaline/profile) for chasing down my inconsistencies and non brit-lish spelling misdemeanours.


End file.
